An Avengers Family Christmas
by Eileen
Summary: It's Christmastime, and the Avengers are getting ready to celebrate. But of course, nothing goes as planned, starting with the arrival of a certain God of Mischief. Even though he has no powers and swears he's helpless and destitute, can they trust him? Sometimes allies are found in the strangest places, and sometimes family isn't limited to blood.
1. Son of Hulk

The first time Bruce mentioned that he had a son was one movie night late in October.

"Doesn't that girl," he asked Tony, pointing to the screen, "look like Micky Sandoval? Not that one-her."

"Yeah," Tony said. "She does. What's the actress' name?"

"I don't know. We'll have to wait for the credits."

"Who's Micky Sandoval?" Clint asked.

"She's my . . . I guess you'd call her my baby mama."

Natasha spit out her Diet Coke. "You have kids?"

"Just one."

"You never mention him. Him? Her?"

"Him. His name's Nathan. He goes to a private school upstate. I taught there for a while, before the . . . incident."

"How old is he?" asked Steve.

"Eight. Almost nine."

"Big boy."

"You have no idea," Tony muttered.

"Do you have any pictures?"

"Just one. Jarvis?"

The movie froze, and the AI's voice said, "Yes, Dr. Banner?"

"Display photo 'Nathan Banner', please."

The movie went black, and was replaced by an image of the Hulk with . . .

"Oh, my God," Natasha gasped.

"I know. It's a bit of a shock, until you get to know him. He's really smart."

"He's the product of two Ph.D's," said Tony. "How could he not be?"

"Why does he look like that?" Steve asked.

"Because Jack Franklin made him look like that. To get back at me, because Micky wanted me instead of him."

Thor seemed the only one unfazed by the boy's appearance. When the others called him on it, he simply shrugged and said, "Some of my brother's children are equally . . . strange-looking."

"He's doing really well in school," Bruce said. "We Skype all the time."

"Skype?"

"It's like a telephone conversation on a computer, Steve," Clint explained.

"How does he type with those paws? Sorry, I just . . . they're huge!"

"He has a custom-built laptop with keys five times normal size," Bruce explained. "Hank McCoy made it for him. He has . . . similar issues. Nate loves the computer, actually. The school monitors his activity, of course, and blocks certain sites so he won't get into trouble."

"What's he like?" Natasha asked.

"He's just like any other eight-year-old boy. He likes cartoons and sports. He's learning how not to hurt the other kids when he plays with them."

"Can we start the movie again?" Tony grumbled.

And that was that, at least for the time being.

* * *

The next time Bruce mentioned his son was one morning about a month later, at the beginning of December.

He waited until everyone had come down for breakfast, and then he said, "I talked to Nathan a couple of days ago."

"How is Hulk Junior?" asked Tony.

"He's fine. He said . . . he said that some of the other kids at his school are going home for Christmas break."

"What is this Chris-muss?" Thor asked.

"The big feast at the end of the year. We talked about this, remember? Anyway, Nathan asked if he could come here."

"For how long?" asked Tony.

"Two weeks. From December 21 until the Monday after New Year's."

"What did you tell him?"

"I said I'd talk to everyone else before I could say yes or no. It's his first real holiday-the kid was basically kept in a cage for the first five years of his life, and then he had gradual exposure to other people, a few at a time. He needs to get out and meet people. I'm not talking about taking him down to Times Square on New Year's Eve-he'd go nuts, and then **I'd** go nuts, and that would not be good."

He had a gift for understatement. If someone Nathan's size, not to mention the Hulk, went on a rampage in a crowd that size, nothing short of a nuclear blast could stop them.

"But Christmas is a time for family," he continued.

"Family . . ." Thor's face took on a dark expression.

"Family that hasn't tried to kill us lately," Tony clarified. "Sure, I'm all for having the kid visit. We've got high ceilings and reinforced floors here. Long as he doesn't jump on the furniture, he should be fine."

"Okay, so that's one yes vote. Tasha?"

She looked pensive. "What sort of needs does he have? I mean, special foods, favorite toys? What?"

"He likes Spongebob Squarepants. It's a cartoon," Bruce explained, for the benefit of those who weren't up on the latest popular culture. "Trust me, by the time he goes home, you'll all know the theme song by heart. Food . . . nothing special, really. Just lots of it. He normally eats about twelve thousand calories a day, when he's training at school, but if he's not doing anything strenuous, he can probably get away with nine or ten thousand. He likes fast food, even though I've told him it's not good for him, but he'll eat just about anything."

"We'll have to do extra food shopping, then. Whose turn is it?"

They looked around the table. Thor had been forbidden from doing the shopping after the incident with the melons and the cheese spray. Steve tended to complain about the prices, and Bruce just generally didn't have the patience to shop.

"Guess it's me again," she conceded.

"We can order in," Tony suggested.

"I'm going to say no," said Clint. "We have too many volatile people in this house already. One more might push things over the edge."

"He won't give you any trouble," said Bruce. "If he does, tell him I said so, and he'll listen."

"And what happens when you lose control? Who reins you in?"

"I haven't had an episode in over two months. I'll be fine."

"Why does that sound like famous last words?"

Bruce didn't bother answering the rhetorical question. "Okay, that's two for yes, and one no. Steve?"

"Are you sure he's ready for this? Some kids can't handle sleepovers until they're ten or eleven. Maybe next year?"

"Is that a no?"

"No, it's not a no, I'm just not sure about this. I'm trying to see it from his point of view. If he's not used to people-"

"He has friends at school. And on Facebook."

"He has a Facebook account?" asked Tony. "What does he use for a photo? Not that."

"No, he Photoshopped an avatar, with help from a couple of other students. It's supposed to be what he looks like inside his head. Whatever that means. I don't do Facebook."

"Face . . . book?" Thor was confused.

"Never mind. So we have two yeses, one yes with reservations, and one no. What say you, son of Odin?"

"Is he as strong as he looks?"

"Nearly as strong as the Hulk, and almost indestructible. Plus, he's been training with Wolverine."

The few members of the team who had encountered the Canadian looked impressed. Wolverine was not known for having a lot of patience, or self-control. "I wasn't aware he was teaching," said Clint. "Last time we met, he tried to rip my head off."

"To be fair," said Natasha, "you'd just shot him in the ass. That would make anyone a bit touchy."

"You shot **Wolverine **in the ass? And lived?" Tony stared at the archer in amazement and admiration. "I want to hear this story!"

"Another time, maybe," said Bruce. "Well, big guy? It's up to you. Yea or nay?"

"I look forward to sparring with him. So yes."

"Just remember he's only a little boy. Don't hurt him."

"If he can go toe to toe with Wolverine," said Tony, "I don't think we have to worry about **him** being hurt."

"Looks like we're having company, then. I'll take full responsibility for anything he breaks."

Clint still didn't look happy, but he kept his opinions to himself for now. He left later that day on a solo mission, and did not return for over a week. And when he came back, he wouldn't talk to anyone. It wasn't completely out of character for the archer to keep to himself after a difficult mission, but the others had a sense that he was holding a grudge against them, and they kept out of his way.

And then suddenly, or so it seemed, it was the morning of December twenty-first, and Bruce and Tony were leaving to pick up Nathan.

"We should be back in about an hour or so. Don't make a big deal of it, but it would be nice if everyone at least came out to say hi to him."

"Don't worry," said Natasha. "I'm sure he's snapped out of his funk by now. He has his moods, but they never last long. I'll see if I can get him to talk about it."

"Thanks. See you in an hour."

Tony drove, first of all because it was his car (well, one of his cars; he owned twelve, and this was the biggest), and second because Bruce didn't feel comfortable behind the wheel of a car. He was worried about having an "incident" on the road, which would not be a good thing.

Traffic was not too bad. They listened to the radio and chatted for a while about nothing in particular. They changed the radio station three times because each thought the other had crap taste in music. It took a while to find one they could both agree on.

They made the turn off the highway, and suddenly there it was, the huge mansion looming before them. They drove up the long drive and parked in the visitors' lot, and suddenly, three hundred pounds of excited eight-year-old knocked Bruce over.

"Dad! Dad!"

"Oof! Take it easy, Nate!" He got up and took a look at his son.

Tony was looking at him, too. "There's . . . something different about you, Junior."

Nathan looked down at his body, which appeared to be that of a tall, muscular, dark-haired boy of about thirteen. "Image inducer," he said, fingering a pendant on a chain around his neck. He squeezed it, and the illusion faded. He pressed it again, and it returned.

"Hmph. Cool."

"You've got your stuff?" Bruce asked him. They walked up the path to the front door. Students were gathered in twos and threes, mostly saying goodbye to each other. A few of them turned to look as the trio passed by, but no one stared.

"It's in my trunk. My Harry Potter trunk." The boy smiled. "I feel like I'm leaving Hogwarts for the holiday."

"You'll be back. And you'll like the people we're living with. They're . . . nice."

"Did you know there are twelve thousand, eight hundred and seven Avengers fansites? And that's just the team ones. There are individual ones, too. Even the Hulk has a fan page. I have it bookmarked on my laptop. Bye, Riley! Bye, Carlos! Bye, Misha!" he called out to some departing students. The kids turned and waved back at him.

Nathan's trunk was in the entry hall, his massive laptop sitting on top. Tony opened it up and looked at it. Each of the keys was about the size of his palm. "Not bad," he said. "I could build you a better one, though. Can I look at this, when we get home?"

"Son, you remember Mr. Stark," Bruce said.

"Hi, Mr. Stark. I want to show you the fan pages first. There's a really good one for Iron Man."

"Well, that's because there's so much information. My life is an open book. Unlike some people."

A slim redhead in a white blouse walked up to them. "Are you ready to go, Nathan?"

"Yes, Miss Jean. I'm all set."

"Hi, Jean," Bruce said. He had liked the young woman, during his brief tenure at the mansion.

"Doctor Banner. Mr. Stark," she nodded to Tony.

"Ms. Grey."

"Can we go now?" Nathan demanded. He lifted the trunk with one huge hand. "Please?"

"You ain't leavin' without sayin' goodbye to me, are ya, Tiny?" a voice from behind them said.

"Mr. Logan!" The boy bent down and gave the man a crushing bear hug. "I'll miss you."

"Yeah, I'll miss you, too, kiddo. How you doing, Bruce?"

"Pretty well. I thought my current living environment would be a problem, but . . . he's been quiet for a while. Which is a good thing."

"I'll say." Logan handed him a green folder. "Here's his report card. He's the best student I ever had—does what he's told, asks **good** questions, not afraid of getting hit . . ."

"As long as he doesn't hurt anyone else." Bruce took the folder and tucked it under his arm.

"Have you thought about coming back here?" Jean asked. "The kids loved having you as a teacher."

"And I loved teaching," he admitted, "but it just wouldn't work out. As long as I know he's okay," he nodded towards Nathan, "I'm good. Let's go, Nate."

"Okay, Dad." He turned and waved one last time on his way out to the car. They made it out the door before Bruce realized they were one person short.

"Wait here, Nate," he said, and ran back inside. He found Tony in a corridor off the kitchen, trying doors. "Tony, what are you doing?"

"Looking for that Danger Room of theirs. I want to get a look at it."

"Another time. We need to get home, now."

"Just one more—"

"**No**." He put into that one word the edgy vibration that suggested he was on the verge of a change. It usually worked, on the others, but Tony knew him better than that.

"It's actually the best place for him. Thick walls, reinforced floors, lots of stuff to smash. And then I can rebuild it."

"Later!" He grabbed Tony by the hand and practically dragged him out to the car, where Nathan was waiting for them.

"It's locked," the boy said.

Tony took something out of his pocket and pressed it. The back door swung open. "Should be plenty of room for you, Junior. That's why I brought the Hummer."

"Just like _CSI_." The boy beamed and started humming the theme song. "Are we there yet?"

"Not for a while," his father told him. "I'll let you know when we're close. You want to listen to some music?"

"Yes, please."

"What kind of music?"

"Nicky Minaj?"

"I . . . don't know what that is."

"I do," said Tony. He pushed buttons on the radio receiver until "Starships" began playing. "How's that?"

"Awesome!" Nathan began singing along in a voice that was a bit higher than his normal speaking voice, almost a falsetto.

"You like Nicki Minaj, buddy?"

"I do! And Lady Gaga, and Katy Perry, and Jessie J, and—"

"I think you'll like this channel, then. It's programmable satellite radio. It's not my thing, but I think I can put up with it till we get home. Just don't bounce around too much, okay?"

"Okay." Nathan seemed to be enjoying the music, so Bruce was happy.

When they got close enough to the city to see the skyline, Bruce pointed out the tower. "Look, Nate, there it is! Right in the middle, there. That's where we live."

Nathan leaned close to the window and looked out. "It's funny-looking," he said.

"It's unique," said Tony. "I wanted a building that didn't look like any of the other buildings around it. So it would stand out."

"Oh, it stands out, all right," said Bruce.

"In a good way, I hope."

"At least he didn't say it was ugly."

"Some people just don't appreciate genius."

When they stepped off the elevator, Tony's assistant, Pepper Potts, was there to meet them.

"When did you get here?" he asked her.

"About five minutes before you did. Check your messages."

"I was just about to do that. Um, this is Nathan. Nathan, come say hello to Miss Potts."

Nathan stepped forward. Pepper had been prepared for his odd appearance, but photos were nothing like seeing him in person. He was . . . big. "Hello, Nathan," she said. "It's a pleasure to meet you." She started to extend her hand, but then stopped when she saw the size of his massive paws.

Nathan took her hand as gently as he could and shook it. It was a bit like shaking hands with a bear (not that she'd ever done that), but not as scary. "Hello, Miss Potts. You're pretty."

"Why, thank you. Hello, Doctor Banner."

Bruce nodded to her. He had one end of Nathan's heavy trunk, and Tony took the other. Together they maneuvered it into the main living space and set it against a wall for now.

"Where's that going?" Pepper asked.

"My room," said Bruce, "but not yet. Where is everyone?"

"Down in the practice area, working out some aggression."

"I told them we'd be right up!" said Tony. "What happened?"

She sighed. "The usual. When the arguing got too loud, I told them to go punch something or shoot something or hit something that wouldn't make a mess. Give them a few more minutes. At least you'll have time to go through your messages."

"Let's go put this away, then," Bruce said to his son. "I'll show you where you'll be sleeping. It's right next to my room, so if you get scared, I'll be right there."

Together they lifted the trunk and carried it down to Bruce's suite of rooms, right next to his lab.

"This will be your room, at least for now. Hope it's big enough for you." It was actually two rooms, with the divider between them retracted. There was a king sized bed, on cinder blocks, a specially-reinforced chair, and a desk that took up half the room. No flimsy some-assembly-required furniture here.

"It's great, Dad." Nathan opened his trunk and started unpacking.

"I'll see you out in the living room as soon as you're ready. Hopefully everyone else will be up, and you can meet them all."

"Do you like them?"

"They're good people, all of them. Sometimes we . . . disagree on some points, but we generally get along pretty well, most of the time."

"They're afraid to get you mad, huh?"

He had to smile at that. "Not so much anymore. I'll leave you to finish unpacking. The wardrobe's over there." He pointed to the corner, where a wardrobe that was actually smaller than Nathan himself sat in the corner. "Make sure you hang everything up, or the cleaning robots will come through and destroy anything on the floor."

"Cleaning robots?" Nathan looked like he was sure he was being had. "Are there really cleaning robots?"

"They come through twice a day, sweeping up all the dust and crumbs and stuff. So make sure there's nothing left on the floor for them to roll over. I'm serious."

"Sure, Dad." Nathan still wasn't sure he wasn't kidding, but he hung all his clothes in the wardrobe and set his laptop and all its accessories on the desk. When he was done, the room looked like home.

But it needed one last touch. He reached into the bottom of the trunk and took out the picture of his mother, the only one he had, clipped out of the newspaper and fitted into a frame, and set it on the desk next to the laptop. The picture really didn't do her justice, but he liked seeing her face first thing in the morning, and last thing at night. He didn't care what else she had done; she was his mother, and he loved her.

Once all that was done, he went out to what his father had called the living room. There were three men and a woman sitting on the sofas, and he recognized all of them from their fan site photos.

"There you are!" Bruce appeared from the kitchen area. "Everyone," he called out. "I want you all to come meet Nathan."

"Aw, dammit!" one of the men—the one all in black—yelled at the TV screen. "That was a bonehead play if I ever saw one!"

"Language! Women and children present!" That was the big man with short blond hair, who Nathan still couldn't believe he was getting to meet.

The woman, who had pretty red hair, looked over her shoulder at him. "I've heard worse. In eight different languages."

"That still doesn't excuse it."

"Tell that idiot not to miss the shot, then."

"Clint," said the woman, "you agreed to be nice. Now come on." She stood up and came over to where Nathan was standing. "Hello, Nathan. It's nice to meet you."

"Hello, Miss Tasha," he said. "You look prettier than your pictures. They're usually blurry."

"That's because she's usually moving," said the man who had complained about the game. "Clint Barton," he introduced himself. Nathan gingerly shook his hand, just as he had done with Miss Potts. "Can I get back to sulking now? I have money on this game."

"Why do they keep interrupting it with pictures of cars?" the big man with long blond hair demanded. "Why do they not simply get on with it?"

"They're called commercials," said Bruce. "They're to get people to buy stuff."

"Let them buy it on their own time! Nothing is worth interrupting such a contest of strength!"

"Are you really a god?" Nathan asked him.

The man looked him up and down. "You are the son of Banner?"

"Yes, sir."

"You are . . . bigger than I expected."

"So are you."

The Norse god laughed, and put his arm around the boy. "I like you, child! You speak the truth so plainly. Come, watch the foot ball with us!"

Nathan looked back. "Can I, Dad?"

"Fine with me."

And then he was face to face with his idol, his second-favorite Avenger (cause his dad would always be number one), who was standing up and approaching him. "It's an honor to meet you, sir," Nathan said, too much in awe to come any closer.

"The honor's mine," said Steve Rogers, Captain America, "to meet such a well-mannered young man." And he grabbed Nathan's furry paw and clasped it firmly.

"Can I sit with you?" the boy asked.

"Is he allowed on the furniture?" That was the grumpy man, Mr. Barton.

"He's not a Saint Bernard." Mr. Stark had come back in and sat down in the leather recliner. "Are you worried he'll shed on you or something?"

The man said nothing, and Nathan sat down next to Captain Rogers, trying not to lean too hard against the back of the sofa. He had broken too many pieces of furniture to be totally comfortable sitting there.

Nathan didn't watch much sports, but he could follow the game all right. "Are we cheering for the guys in the red jerseys or the blue ones?"

"Blue," said Mr. Thor, without taking his eyes off the screen.

"This doesn't look like football," Nathan said. "It's soccer."

"They call it football in Europe," said Mr. Barton. The red guys scored another goal, and he grunted something unintelligible and threw the remote onto the floor. "I give up! Watch whatever you want!" He left the room, still muttering.

So they switched to a movie about spies. Nathan had trouble following it, but he tried not to ask too many questions and annoy the others. On his first night watching movies with his friends at school, he had kept asking questions about what was going on—who's that? Why's he on a plane? Where'd the girl go?—that before the movie was half over, Riley had told him to just watch it and be quiet, and he'd find out for himself what was happening. So he had stopped asking so many questions during movies, and though he didn't always find out the answers right away, he didn't like annoying anyone.

He grew frustrated with the movie and shifted around on the sofa, but stopped when he heard it creak ominously. He didn't want to break any more furniture.

"You okay there, buddy?" his dad asked him.

Nathan just shrugged. He didn't know how to explain it. "Can we watch Christmas specials instead?"

You mean like Rudolph, Frosty, Charlie Brown? I think I have those. JARVIS, play video file 'Classic Christmas.'"

"Yes, sir." The movie halted and then went black, and then cartoon snow filled the screen.

"Who's that?" Nathan asked.

"JARVIS? He runs this whole place," Mr. Stark explained. "He's the latest in artificial intelligence."

"That means he's a computer," Nathan's dad told him.

Rudolph was starting. Nathan had never actually seen it, and as it turned out, he wasn't alone.

"How can the tiny deer people talk?" Mr. Thor asked.

"It's called stop-motion animation," Dad explained. "They're little figures, like action figures, that are moved a little bit at a time, and on film, it looks like they're moving on their own. It's all done with computer models now, but back then, they did it all by hand."

"Amazing." Captain Rogers was staring at the screen as if trying to catch the figures being moved.

They watched Rudolph, Frosty, and something that Nathan's dad kept singing all the songs to. To Nathan, it didn't make much sense. Heat Miser and Snow Miser?

"This was always my favorite," Dad said. "But it wasn't on for a long time."

"I noticed that," said Mr. Stark. "Did they lose the rights, or what?"

"I think so."

After a while, Mr. Barton came out of his room and joined them, though he didn't talk much. The pizza arrived in the middle of Charlie Brown Christmas-more like pizzas, twelve of them.

Nathan didn't realize how hungry he was until he looked down and saw the entire pizza box was empty. "Sorry," he said.

"Sorry? For what, buddy?" Dad asked him.

"For eating all the pizza."

"Don't worry about it, kid," said Mr. Stark. "Goldilocks put away two whole pizzas by himself, and he's not even done yet."

Mr. Thor looked up briefly, but his mouth was full, so he didn't say anything.

"Cap eats a lot, too. So don't worry about it. That's why I ordered so much pizza. Have a bottle of water, too." He held out a gallon jug, and Nathan knew he was just teasing.

Two hours later, the pizza was gone, and Nathan was starting to feel a little tired. "Can I go to bed now?"

Dad looked at him. "Sure, buddy. You've had a long day, haven't you? Say goodnight to everyone."

"Night," Nathan said, waving around the room.

"Night, sweetie," said Miss Potts.

There were calls of "Good night, Nathan," but he didn't turn to see who it was. When he was almost out of the room, he heard Mr. Stark say, "Thank God, the child is gone. We can drink now. Steve, open the beer fridge."

He wanted to ask Dad what a beer fridge was, but when he opened his mouth, all that came out was a huge yawn.

"Yeah, you're tired. Got up early, didn't you?"

"Uh huh." He let Dad help him into his favorite blue pj's, and then into bed.

"Now remember, I'm right next door if you need anything. I'll be sitting up reading for a while." He pulled the covers up to Nathan's chin and then kissed him on the forehead. "See you in the morning, Nate."

"Night, Dad."

He closed his eyes before the lights went off, and went to sleep thinking of all the wonderful things he and his dad, as well as their new friends, would do tomorrow.

But when morning came, something would happen that would change everyone's plans. In a big way.


	2. Family Means Family

The sound of the TV woke Bruce up at . . . he looked at the clock . . . six twenty-four in the morning.

On a Saturday.

During Christmas vacation.

He shrugged into his favorite blue robe and made his way down the hall. Nathan was in the living room, watching cartoons. Bruce took a seat beside him.

"Hey there."

The boy looked up. "Hi, Dad."

"Can you do me a favor? Turn it down just a little bit? Everyone else is still sleeping, and I don't want to wake them up yet. It's really early, you know."

"Can we go Christmas shopping today?"

The question caught him off-guard. "I thought we talked about this, Nate. I don't think you're ready to be out in public yet."

"I'll be okay. If you're there."

"See, that's the thing. I don't know if I can handle Christmas shopping. There's gonna be lots of people, pushing, shoving, long lines, traffic . . . I don't want to take any chances."

"I'll be there. You're okay when I'm there. Please, Dad?"

He sighed. Nathan was not about to let this go. "We'll talk to the others, when they wake up, and see what they say. They might not want to go, though. Don't get your hopes up."

"Okay." Nathan went back to watching Spongebob without another word.

Bruce just made himself some coffee and waited for the others to wake up. He read yesterday's paper because he wasn't sure where the current one was, or if it had been delivered yet.

"You want some cereal, Nate?" he called out.

"Can I have Lucky Charms?"

"If it's here. I'm not sure who did the shopping this week." He opened the cabinet where they kept the breakfast foods. "Let's see . . . Corn Flakes, Cheerios, Rice Chex, Raisin Bran . . . I don't see any Lucky Charms."

But Nathan had seen something else. "Can I have a Pop Tart?"

"What?" And then he saw them, on the top shelf. "Oh, no, buddy, those are Mr. Thor's. He gets kinda touchy if people take his stuff without asking."

The boy pouted a bit, but finally said, "Okay. Cheerios, please."

"Okay." A regular-size cereal bowl was nowhere near enough for Nathan, so Bruce grabbed a large serving bowl from the other cupboard and filled it up. It emptied half the box, but he could always buy more.

"Morning." Steve, dressed in a T-shirt and flannel pants, shuffled in and poured himself a cup of coffee. "What's for breakfast?"

"Cheerios, if Nathan doesn't finish them off. There's a few other cereals to choose from."

"No Cinnamon Toast Crunch?" Having discovered the cereal on his only shopping trip, Steve had gotten to like the sweet taste. "I put it on the shopping list."

"Guess not. Don't look at me; I don't do the shopping."

"I guess this is fine." He poured himself a bowl of Cheerios, much smaller than Nathan's, and began eating.

"Whoever made coffee," Natasha's sleepy voice said, "I'll marry you."

"Who said coffee?" The others drifted in and made themselves comfortable. Cereal was poured, and light conversation was shared. At times like these, they could forget about having to save the world and just be friends.

No, more than friends, Bruce realized: they were as close to a family as they would ever have. It was funny, really. He had never expected to have children, and then he found Nathan (or vice-versa); he had grown up an only child, and now he had brothers and sisters in arms, who would look out for him no matter what.

Suddenly there was a beep, and JARVIS' voice sounded through the living space. "Attention: there is an intruder in the main lobby."

"Intruder?" Tony looked interested. "What kind of intruder? I thought the doorman kept all the crazy homeless people out of the building."

"He is most insistent, sir. He is asking for you to come down to meet him."

"Show us this intruder." He had a hunch, but he needed to find out for sure.

The image popped up on the main view screen, displacing Spongebob. Nathan cried out, but his father gestured to him to hush.

Even in a black and green ski parka, a gold knit cap pulled down over his face, they still recognized him.

"Loki." Clint threw his coffee cup to the floor with a snarl of rage.

"What the hell is he doing here?" Tony demanded.

Everyone looked at Thor, who looked angry as well. "I did not invite him! I do not even know how he found us!"

"The fan sites," said Bruce. "All he had to do was Google."

"He does not know how to . . . Google!"

"Maybe he asked someone."

"I don't care," said Tony. "Get down there, and get rid of him. What's he even doing here on Earth? I thought he was imprisoned in Asgard."

Thor looked uncomfortable. "He was exiled to this plane, after being stripped of his powers. It was his punishment from our father."

"And you didn't tell us this **why**? No, never mind. Just go tell him to get lost."

The Thunder God reluctantly stormed out of the apartment.

"Can I have my cartoon back, please?" Nathan asked.

The others looked over as if noticing him for the first time. "Oh, sure," Tony said. "JARVIS, put the cartoon back on for the kid."

"Aw, I wanted to watch Loki get his a—get kicked out," said Clint.

"You can watch the recording later. Right now, let's keep Hulk Junior happy."

Spongebob came back on, and Nathan said, "Thank you, Mr. Stark."

"Any time, kid."

Not five minutes later, the elevator dinged, and an angry Norse god appeared, carrying something over his shoulder. It wasn't until he threw the something onto one of the sofas that the others saw what it was.

Or rather, who it was.

"Now, you will stay there!" Thor ordered his brother. "You will not move. You will not speak to any of us, until we decide what to do with you!"

"Can I remove my jacket?" Loki asked.

"Give it to me. I will hang it up."

The Trickster unzipped his jacket and shrugged it off. Underneath he was wearing a dark green button-down shirt and black jeans. He reluctantly handed the jacket over, and then pulled his hat off and tossed that to his brother, who caught it with the hand that wasn't holding the jacket.

"I'm sorry," said Tony. "What part of 'Get rid of him' translated as 'Bring him upstairs and dump him on my couch?'"

"He has nowhere else to go," Thor explained.

"There are homeless shelters!"

"He is powerless! And alone. He has many enemies."

"Yes, and many of them are in this room," Clint pointed out. "I don't care where he goes, as long as it's not here."

"He has been punished enough!"

"Not nearly enough for me."

"Would you have me throw him out into the cold?"

"That sounds good for a start," said Tony. "I'll even make him a 'WILL WORK FOR FOOD' sign."

"You do not understand!"

"Excuse me," said Bruce, in that wavery voice that suggested he was beginning to lose control. "I have to go to my room for a while."

At this, Nathan looked up. Loki saw the strange creature for the first time. "Who are you?"

"I'm Nathan," the boy said. "Is my dad okay?"

"Your dad?" This was not good. He hadn't forgotten the beat-down he had received at the hands of the Hulk, and he had no wish to repeat the experience with this . . . son? Who looked even bigger and possibly stronger than his father.

"Are you sad?"

"Well, I . . ." He thought about all that had happened to him. "Yes, I suppose I am."

"Why?"

"Because my daddy doesn't love me anymore."

"But . . ." The huge, misshapen face contorted in confusion. "Why? What did you do?"

"I tried to take by force what should have been rightfully mine."

"Huh?"

How old was this child? "I tried to take over the world."

"Oh! Like Pinky and the Brain?"

"I don't know what that is."

"Wanna watch Spongebob?"

"What is a Spongebob?"

"Just watch. The grownups are talking."

"I know. They're talking about me. My brother wants me to stay here, but I don't think his friends agree."

"But . . . it's Christmas. Christmas is a time for family."

"Tell my father that," Loki muttered under his breath.

"They **have **to let you stay!"

"They don't **have **to do anything. But I have nowhere else to go."

"Where's my dad? I should tell him to tell them to let you stay."

As if on cue, Bruce came back in from his suite of rooms, walked past his arguing teammates, and took a seat in the recliner next to Nathan's sofa.

"You okay, Dad?" Nathan asked.

"Yeah, I think so."

Loki slid over a few feet on his own sofa, fearing green retribution.

"Are they still talking?"

"I think so. I can't be around that right now. Can I watch Spongebob with you?"

"Sure."

"This is your son?" said Loki. "I can see the resemblance."

Bruce very slowly turned his head and regarded the Asgardian. "If it were up to me," he said, "you'd go right out that window. Just like you did to Tony."

"How many times can I say I'm sorry? I'll say it again: I'm sorry, all right? What more do you want from me?"

"However," Bruce continued, as though Loki hadn't spoken, "Nathan seems to like you. He's a pretty good judge of character. But I have to warn you: if you hurt him in any way, SHIELD will be the least of your worries. **I **will be the least of your worries. The thing you'll have to fear most . . . will be Nathan himself."

He cued up a video on the top of the coffee table. It was from a security camera in the Xavier mansion. "That's Nathan," he said, "beating the crap out of Jack Franklin. A man who hurt him in ways you can't imagine. And the kid had a hundred and three degree fever when he did this. Imagine what he's like when he's healthy."

Loki watched the video in silence, one hand unconsciously rubbing the small of his back.

"I'll speak up on your behalf, for Nathan's sake. But I hope you don't abuse our trust. You may not have noticed, but you don't have too many friends left."

"I'll . . . keep that in mind," Loki said.

The others gathered in the living room just then, having apparently made their decision. "Nathan," Tony said, "would you mind if we turned off Spongebob for a few minutes? I need to talk to someone."

"You're not gonna send him away," the boy said. "I won't let you!"

The billionaire cast a bemused look at the child, and then at the fallen god sitting across from him. "What did you say to the kid to get him on your side?"

"Only the truth."

"I thought the truth wasn't your style."

"I'm giving it a try. What have I got left to lose?"

"You're still alive," said Clint. "We can fix that."

Thor raised his hammer threateningly, and before anything regrettable could happen, Tony said, "Get Fury on the line. He needs to hear this."

"He is already waiting, sir," said JARVIS. "He called eight minutes ago and agreed to hold until you all had come to a decision."

"He knows what's going on?"

"He does now." The screen filled with Fury's one-eyed glare. "I thought Loki wasn't our problem anymore. How did he get back to Earth?"

"He was banished," Thor explained. "And stripped of his powers."

"Permanently?"

"As far as I know."

"Is that a pirate, Dad?" Nathan asked.

"No, Nate, that's our boss. Now hush, the grownups—"

"—are talking, I know. When do I get to talk?"

"When you're a grownup."

"I'm gonna grow bigger than this?"

"Maybe." The full extent of what Franklin had done to him was still unknown, and it was possible that Nathan was not done growing yet, at least physically. "Now I need you to be quiet, okay?"

Nathan nodded and stepped back out of the way.

"I don't have to tell you," Fury was saying, "that several government agencies, both domestic and international, are looking for your houseguest."

"Precisely my point!" Thor shouted. "If he leaves here, he is a target! If he stays . . . he will be under our control."

"Can you be sure of that?"

"He has given me his word that he will not go anywhere without me. My brother has never lied to **me**."

"That may not be enough to convince the council."

"Weren't you the one," Tony asked, "who said screw the council? Forget them. Forget everyone else in the universe who wants Bambi dead. Do we have authorization to hold him here?"

"What restrictions have been placed on his powers?"

"He has no powers. Nothing. He's as human as you or I."

Fury frowned at this. "Are you sure he's not just pretending to be powerless?"

Loki raised his hands in front of him. Not so much as a spark leapt from his fingers. "Does that convince you?"

"Frankly, no."

"What about a probationary period?" Bruce suggested. Everyone looked at him strangely. "What? Give the guy a chance!"

"Or you'll have the Other Guy throw him around again?" Natasha asked.

"No. Nathan seems to like him. I don't know why, but I trust my son's judgment. You gave him a second chance. You gave **me **a second chance, after all the things I did. That's all we're asking for here: give the guy a chance to prove he's changed. You might be surprised."

"If I might say something," Steve interjected. The room went silent to hear him speak. "Thank you. I think Doctor Banner has a point. We should give him another chance. A chance to make up for what he's done, or at least to try to."

"What, like community service?" Tony didn't look too happy about that. "Let him pick up trash along the side of the road!"

"But we have facilities to contain him—people to contain him—if something happens. We're safer with him here than with him elsewhere in the world. At least if he's here, we know where he is and what he's doing. We can keep an eye on him."

"That was what I said!" Thor exclaimed. "I will take full responsibility for him."

"That's a lot to handle," Fury pointed out. "Are you sure you're up to it?"

"I know how to deal with my brother. He will listen to me."

"All right," Fury said. "It's decided, then; I'm transferring him into your custody, at least temporarily. But be warned," and now he was speaking directly to Loki, "if you slip up even once, I'll have you in a cell so fast you won't have time to breathe. Is that clear?"

Loki bowed his head. He knew when he was beaten. "Yes, sir."

"Good. I'll get you an official ID and get you into the system. For now, you don't leave the tower, unless it's in the company of your brother or one of our other agents. Be grateful you're not in handcuffs."

As the director's image faded from the screen, Nathan asked, "Dad, can Mr. Loki come shopping with us?"

Everyone turned to look at them.

"Oh, no, no!" said Tony. "No way, Hell, no!"

"I can't believe I'm doing this," he said twenty minutes later, as he drove a Hummer with Bruce, Nathan, and the two gods aboard. "Why am I doing this again?"

"Yay, Christmas shopping!" Nathan exclaimed, and began singing along with the music on the radio.


	3. A Day at the Mall

They drove out of the city, to a mid-sized mall in the suburbs. It was decided that if they were going to do this crazy thing, it was better for everyone not to be in the middle of the city, in case anything went wrong.

"There's still going to be crowds," Natasha had pointed out. "I mean, come on, it's three days before Christmas. It'll be crazy. Are we sure we can handle it?"

Bruce appreciated how she hadn't singled any one of them out. "We'll have our phones, right? If anything happens, we can find each other and get out of there in a hurry."

"I'm not riding in a car with him," Clint had insisted.

"You don't have to," said Tony. "We'll have to take at least two cars anyway."

"I call Hummer!" Nathan shouted.

"What is a . . . Hummer?" asked Thor.

"A big vehicle," Tony explained. "The big people ride in the big car. The regular-size people can take the Mercedes."

"So we're going to do this crazy thing, then?" asked Steve.

"He wants to go," said Bruce. "He doesn't get to go shopping much. He'll be okay, if I'm there."

"What about you? Will you be okay?"

"I think so." He would never admit it to any of them, but he had taken a mild tranquilizer when he had left the room, when the first arguments began. He didn't like having to rely on medication to control himself, but he thought he might need a little extra help this time.

And so here they were, in the Hummer, driving along and listening to Christmas music, just like a normal family. A dysfunctional family, to be sure, but a family nonetheless.

He looked over his shoulder at Nathan, who was happily singing in the rear passenger seat, and Thor, in the other window seat, who was trying to keep up despite the fact that he knew none of the words. Between them, Loki looked absolutely miserable.

"Why do you not sing with us, brother?" Thor asked him.

"I . . . don't know the words."

"That does not matter! It is the spirit of the thing! Today is a day for celebrating! Celebrate with us!"

"Celebrate what? That I am essentially a prisoner here? That I can't—" The Hummer hit a bump, and suddenly Loki's face was as green as his jacket.

Bruce knew that look. "Tony, roll the window down, now!"

"Why? What—"

"Just do it!"

There was a mechanical whine as the power window rolled down, and then Loki was leaning across his brother and vomiting out onto the blacktop.

"What is this? Brother, are you ill?" Thor put one hand on the younger man's back, and the other underneath him for support.

It was some time before Loki was able to speak. "That," he said, "was unpleasant."

Bruce handed him back a bottle of water. The god took a swig, rinsed his mouth out, and spat out the still-open window. "That's better. Thank you, Doctor."

"What in the name of Asgard is **wrong** with him?" Thor demanded.

"Nothing serious. He's just carsick," Bruce explained.

"Carsick?"

"It's caused by the motion of the vehicle. Used to happen to me all the time when I was young. It's nasty, but it does go away. I can give you something for it, if there's a drugstore in this mall."

"That would be most appreciated." Loki took a deep breath, and let it out slowly. "I do feel better now."

A few minutes later, they pulled into the mall's parking garage. They had to drive down three levels until they found a free space. "Okay, folks, everyone out. Remember we're in space B28, level 3, North side."

Tony led the way to the elevator, which looked pitifully small for the group. Nathan alone would take up most of the room. "You can go first," he offered. "We'll all meet up at the front entrance of the mall and decide where to go from there. Okay?"

"Are there toy stores in this mall?" Nathan asked.

"We'll find out," his dad promised. "Come on, the door's closing. I'll let you push the button, if you promise to do it gently."

"Okay." With that, they stepped onto the elevator just as the doors closed.

"Right there, that one that says M. That means main floor, I guess. Or mall."

Nathan reached out and pressed the M button. "Like that?"

"Just like that. Good job, buddy." He'd been precise enough to not press five other buttons around it. His aim was getting better.

When the doors opened, they were in the ground level of the mall. The main entrance was to their left, and there they waited, on a bench decorated to look like it was made of candy canes.

"Oh, Dad! Look at all the lights!" Nathan looked all the way up to the top level of the three-story mall. There were twinkling lights in all colors wound around railings or tacked around store entrances or just dangling from the ceiling in strings.

"Yeah, they are pretty, aren't they?" They weren't flashing, which Bruce appreciated. Flashing lights tended to annoy him, and this was one day when he wanted to keep the annoyances to a minimum.

The elevator dinged, and a moment later, Tony, Thor, and Loki joined them.

"I wish someone had warned me about that moving box," Loki moaned. He was so pale now he was practically translucent.

"He threw up again," Tony explained. "I'd call Maintenance, but I don't know how."

"Here, sit down." Bruce got up so the god could have a seat. He parked himself in the middle of the bench, his head in his hands and his elbows resting on his knees, breathing deeply. "Want some more water?"

"I'd rather not risk it."

Thor knelt down beside his brother. "Are you sure you do not want to go home?"

"I'd love to go home. I'm just not sure that I have one anymore."

"Your home is with us now."

"I wouldn't call it home. Besides, I'm fine. It's already going away. Hopefully it won't come back."

The elevator doors opened again, and the rest of the Avengers stepped out. "Someone ought to call Maintenance," Steve said. "Looks like someone was sick in the elevator."

The others were silent, unwilling to humiliate Loki any further. They looked around in different directions, as if they were searching for the culprit.

"Never mind," said Natasha. "Someone will get it. Let's find a directory and get this shopping over with."

"Not a fan of shopping, are we?" Tony quipped.

"What, you think just because I'm a woman, I'm perfectly happy spending six hours looking at shoes? No way. I'm gonna get what I want, and then I'll wait for you in the car." She looked around until she spotted a directory, which was tall enough to double as a monolith from _2001_, and went up to it to try to decipher its mythic inscription.

"Come on, Nate," Bruce said. "Let's find out where the toy stores are. If there's more than one."

"Okay, so we all meet at the Food Court in two hours? Everyone has a watch, right?" Tony looked around. "Good. Go. Have fun. I'll be in the electronics store, checking out their pathetic consumer-ready technology." He thrust his hands into his pockets and strolled off, even though he had no idea where he was going.

"I found it! Come on, Dad!" Nathan took off running towards the toy store, but one word from his father stopped him in his tracks.

"Nathan."

He turned and looked back.

"Wait for me. I want you to stay right with me, okay? I don't want to lose you here. Lot of people in this place, and if we lose each other, it could be a while until we find each other again. So stay right next to me, and I won't have to go looking for you."

"I think I'll stick with you guys," said Steve. "I don't even know what half these places are. If that's okay with you."

"It's fine with me. Nate?"

Nathan was speechless, at least at first. This day had just gotten ten times better. Wait till he told all his friends on Facebook! "Yeah!"

"We'll start with the toy store, then, and work our way around. Don't forget to keep an eye out for a pharmacy."

"Why? Do you need to restock your supplies?" Steve asked him.

"No, no, it's . . . it's actually for Loki. He has a bit of a motion sickness problem. I didn't mention it before because I didn't want to embarrass the guy."

"Let me guess: it was him in the elevator, wasn't it?"

"Don't make a big deal of it. I told him it was nothing to be ashamed of. Plus, I remember what it was like to have to pull the car over every few miles on long trips. It's the worst feeling in the world, and I wouldn't wish it on my worst enemy."

"He did seem . . . kind of pale. I mean, more than usual. Are you sure it's not something more serious? Something contagious?"

"I can't be sure without a full workup, but it did get better, so I'm about ninety percent sure that's what it is. I'll just get him some Dramamine or something, and he should be fine. There's the toy store—Nathan! Come back here! Stay with me, remember?"

But Nathan was already off and running, too excited to remember the parental edict to stay together. Bruce and Steve caught up to him in front of a display of action figures, most of those of the Avengers. He was apparently deciding which one he wanted the most.

"Whatcha looking at, kiddo?"

"It's us," said Steve. "Well, almost all of us. I don't see a Black Widow anywhere."

"Female figures tend to be hard to find," Bruce explained. "I used to collect them, until . . . you know. Then it became a bad idea to have anything breakable around."

"Found one!" Nathan was digging through the bin until he found a Black Widow action figure. "Now I can have everybody!"

"How much are they?" his father asked, looking for a price sticker. "Holy cow, eight bucks for a four-inch figure? I used to get three for ten dollars."

"Please, Dad?" Nathan's eyes were huge and round.

"That's almost fifty dollars, Nate. Are you sure you don't want to save that money for presents?"

"I already know what I'm getting everybody. I won't ask for anything else ever again. Please, please, pleeeeeease?"

"Tell you what," said Steve. "If you can find another Black Widow, I'll buy you a whole set and have everyone sign them, so you have something to show your friends."

"Yaaaaay!" Nathan began tossing the packaged figures aside in order to find the one he needed.

"Hey, hey, easy, buddy! Don't go breaking the rest of them!" Bruce began picking up the discarded figures before deciding it would be better to make Nathan do it himself. "Now, you're gonna pick all the rest of these up before we go pay for these, right?"

"Got it!" He emerged clutching the coveted figure. Then he looked around at the mess he had made. "Oops. Sorry."

"Come on, I'll help you." He did let Nathan do most of the work, only picking up the odd figure here and there. Luckily, no one else was in the store at the moment, so no one had been hurt by the action figure tornado.

As they went up to pay, Nathan said, "Thank you, Captain Rogers."

"Consider it your Christmas present from me. I'll pass them around and get them signed, and you can put them right in your trunk to take home with you."

"Wow, someone likes the Avengers," said the old man behind the register. "We have a complete set of X-Men, too. At least for the moment; they keep changing their lineup so fast the toy companies can't keep up."

"Do you like the Avengers?" Nathan asked him.

"Oh, sure I do!"

"Who's your favorite?"

The two grownups with Nathan looked at each other, grinning. Little did anyone know . . .

"Well, that's hard to say. They're all so amazing. But if I had to pick a favorite . . . I'd say Spider-Man."

Nathan gave him an indignant look. "But he's not even an Avenger!"

"He will be. I'm sure of it. That's fifty-three dollars and ninety-five cents."

"Tax?" Bruce counted out three twenties from the pitifully small stash he had reserved for Christmas presents. When he got his change back, he wrapped the bills around the outside of the remaining stash, and put the coins in his pocket.

"Now my turn." Steve put his set up on the counter.

The man looked them over. "I didn't know we even **had** two Black Widow figures! You know what these go for on eBay?"

"They were at the bottom," Nathan said. "I had to dig way down to find them. But I picked them all up when I was done."

"You didn't happen to see any more, did you?"

"One. I put it back. In the middle."

"I'll have to tell my customers that we did get them in after all. Anything else I can do for you folks today?"

"This'll do it," Steve said. "Thank you so much." He peeled two twenties, a ten, and four ones off his stack of bills, and received his change.

"Merry Christmas," the shop keeper said.

"Merry Christmas," the three of them echoed as they left the store. Nathan was swinging his bag excitedly, but when he almost hit a lady whose arms were loaded with shopping bags, his dad took it from him.

"I'll just hang onto this till we get to the car," he said.

"But that's not for two hours!"

"More like an hour and a half. You need to watch out for people, Nate. The place is getting busy now, and if you bump into someone, you might hurt them without meaning to. So just be careful, okay?"

"Okay, Dad." He was usually very aware of his body in relation to other people or objects in the vicinity, but today he was too pumped up about the Christmas shopping to remember. But now he'd be sure to stay out of people's way and not bump into them.

Three or four uniformed Mall Security officers rushed past them. One was speaking on his little walkie-talkie. "Roger that. On our way."

"What's going on, Dad?"

"I don't know. Maybe someone got hurt. Let's just try and keep out of the way for now. Do you see anything else you'd like to look at?"

"They don't have guns here, do they?"

What a strange question. "No. Why would you want guns?"

"Not for me. I still haven't bought Mr. Fury a present. I thought he might like a new gun."

Bruce and Steve looked at each other, not sure whether to be amused or angry. "I think he has all the guns he needs. We'll find him something else. Oh, look, here's Santa's Workshop."

"Santa's for babies," Nathan said, and then they realized that all the Mall Security men were crowded around the red and white cardboard shack that represented Santa's village. There were loud, angry voices, and suddenly Bruce recognized one of them.

"Thor," said Steve, coming to the same conclusion. "What's he up to?"

"Maybe he wanted to see Santa."

As they drew closer, a woman's voice rang out shrilly: "—cutting right in front of everyone! Who do you think you are, you—"

"I am a prince of Asgard, you harpy! I demand to see my father at once!"

"Father?" Nathan was confused. "Santa is Mr. Thor's father?"

"I'll explain later, buddy. Let's just keep walking."

But that was easier said than done. Thor caught sight of them and called out, "Friends! Come and help defend me from this troublesome witch!"

"Witch? How dare you? I want this man arrested at once! I don't care who he is! He's upsetting the children!"

The children gathered around watching did not seem the least bit upset. Rather, they were intrigued by the confrontation, watching eagerly to see what would happen next.

"Excuse me, officers, if I might have a moment?" Loki put an arm around the lead security guard's shoulders and led him away, talking a mile a minute.

"What is he doing?" Steve asked. He tried to hear what they were saying, but they were too far away.

Meanwhile, Thor was standing there pouting. It was not a good look for him.

The Santa who normally worked this mall stood off to one side, his padded belly drooping and his false beard askew. "I don't even know the guy!" he kept repeating. "He thinks I'm his father? I don't know him!"

The conference seemed to be breaking up now. The security guard came over and spoke to the woman who had made the complaint. He kept looking towards Thor and making strange gestures. When he was done, he dismissed his people.

The woman came over and began speaking in the kind of overly loud tones one would use with an animal or a toddler. "I'm so sorry! I didn't know you were—I mean, that you loved Santa so much!"

"Why is that woman shouting at me, brother?" Thor asked, as Loki hurriedly ushered them away from the pavilion.

"Oh, no reason, no reason. Look, there's a leather goods shop! That should be good for a laugh."

"What did you say to them?" Steve demanded.

Loki sighed. "All right, if you must know, I hinted—only hinted, mind you—that my client was in need of special assistance."

"You told her he was crazy?" Bruce spat in shock. "You'd better hope he never finds out, or he'll kill you!"

"I'll never tell him. I think this little incident is best forgotten, don't you?"

"You shouldn't have said that," Nathan told him. "That was kinda mean."

"Would you prefer that he be taken into custody? They were talking about calling the police. I had to tell them something. That was simply the first thing I thought of, and the easiest explanation. Look how quickly she believed it."

"It still wasn't right."

"I know what it is like to be in a cell. I would not wish that even on my enemies."

"Sometimes," Bruce said to the boy, "grownups need to do the wrong thing for the right reasons. It's complicated. You'll understand when you're older."

"Okay. Hey, you think Mr. Fury would like a wallet?"

Eventually, they all reconnected at the food court.

"Come, friends! Join us in the bucket of the chicken!"

"There room for all of us in there?" It was an old joke, but Tony could get away with it.

Bruce was relieved to see that Loki was eating something. He seemed to have gotten over the nausea that had plagued him on the drive over. Which reminded him . . .

"This is for you," he said, handing over a small box. "Directions are on the back. Take them now, and you should be okay on the ride home."

"What are these?" He turned the box over. "Motion sickness pills?"

"I told you I'd get you something. If these don't help, I can get you something stronger, but not till we get home."

"Thank you."

"He's just protecting my upholstery," said Tony. But they all knew that a special bond had been formed between the two men, and if that could happen, then maybe there was hope for the rest of them.


	4. Pasta and Extra Houseguests

Unfortunately, the Dramamine wasn't quite enough. Loki was sick again on the ride home, and as soon as they came through the door, went straight to his room. Bruce suspected he was more embarrassed than ill, but vowed to check on him later. If nothing else, he needed to get some baseline readings, since Loki didn't have a medical record on file.

Pepper Potts was in the kitchen, taking a fresh batch of cookies out of the oven. "Hi, guys," she said. "Don't touch these, they're still hot. Wait for them to cool. That means you too, mister!" For she had seen Tony nonchalantly reaching for a cookie even while she was telling him not to.

"Oh, come on, they can't be that—ow!" He dropped the cookie and sucked on his burnt fingers.

"See, I told you." She swatted at him with the spatula.

"You're going to move all this stuff, right? I need some counter space. I need to start the meatballs first, then the sauce, and then put the pasta on last. And I need a cutting board—"

"They're right behind you."

"Where?"

She gave him a look. "Turn around."

"Can I have a cookie?"

The two of them stopped and looked at Nathan, who was standing in the doorway of the kitchen. "Not just yet, sweetie," Pepper told him. "They need to cool first. But when they're ready, you can help me decorate them, okay?"

"Yay!" He grabbed a banana and went off to watch some more cartoons.

Bruce wandered in when Tony was in the middle of putting the sauce together. "Mmm, smells good!"

"It's my grandmother's secret recipe. Best pasta sauce this side of Italy, and it's the only thing I ever cook. Think two boxes will be enough, or do I need three?"

"Can't hurt to make extra. We can always put it away for another night. If there's any left over," he amended, thinking of the amount of food that his son could put away.

With that, he stopped by his room to gather his medical kit before heading to Loki's room to get those readings he wanted. As he had expected, Thor was there, standing guard.

"I'm not going to do anything invasive," Bruce explained, "just mostly take your vitals. This way, if you get sick or injured, I'll know how to treat you. That okay?"

"You're not taking any blood, are you?" the god asked him.

"No, not today. Just routine stuff. How are you feeling, by the way? Everything all right?"

"Yes, it's settled down now."

"I really thought the Dramamine was going to do the trick."

"I was fine until the bridge, and we kept stopping and starting again . . ."

"Yeah, that always did it for me, too. And it was worse because my dad would yell at me every time he had to pull over."

"Could we not talk of fathers right now, please?" The request was almost a whisper.

"Okay. Now, this is just to check your temperature. It goes in your ear. It should only take a second." It did just that. "Huh. Ninety-six point six?"

"That sounds about right. He has always been a bit cooler than the rest of us," Thor pointed out.

"Tell him why," Loki muttered.

"Later, brother."

"No, it's okay. I've heard that some people run hotter or cooler than normal. I'll make a note of it." He scribbled something on his chart. As he pressed on, he discovered that Loki's blood pressure and heart rate were also a bit lower than normal. Odd, but nothing to worry about.

But when the god's hand turned blue, he almost dropped it.

"What is **that**?" he asked.

Loki looked away and didn't answer, so it was up to Thor. "It is his . . . natural coloration."

"Really?"

"It only comes out when he is . . ." He frowned, as if searching for the right word.

"Stressed?"

"Yes."

"I know the feeling. Is it just your hands, or is it all over?"

Loki still wasn't answering. Thor lowered his voice a bit. "He is . . . ashamed of his true heritage. We grew up hearing stories of the frost giants and their cruelty, and thus he sees himself as . . ."

"A monster. Again, I know exactly what you're talking about." So it seemed they had something in common. "Okay, I think we're done here. I've got what I need. Thank you for your time." He started packing up his gear.

"Doctor?" It was barely a whisper.

"What is it?"

"You will not . . . tell the others? Of my . . . abnormality?"

"What? No, of course not. Doctor-patient privilege. That means I can't tell them," he clarified. "Your secret's safe with me."

"Thank you. I think I will rest for a while longer. Please leave me."

"Okay. I'll come get you when dinner's ready."

"You as well, brother."

Thor looked down at him. "Are you sure?"

"I am not a child. Or an invalid. I simply wish to be left alone."

"Come on." Bruce put a hand on the burly god's arm. "Let's go see if those cookies are cool yet. Maybe we can help decorate them."

When they rejoined everyone else, they found Nathan and Pepper singing along to Lady Gaga and squirting icing onto the tray of cookies. Some of it even occasionally ended up on a cookie.

"Need any help with that?" Bruce asked. He picked up the plastic tub of sugar crystals, but wasn't sure what to do with it.

"Oh, sure," Pepper said. "Just sprinkle those on the ones we've already done. The ones that are buried under a mound of icing."

Nathan ducked his head. "I tried to be careful, but it's hard! I'll clean it up, I promise!"

"Let the decorating of the cookies commence!" Thor proclaimed. He scooped up a handful of the sugar crystals and threw them at the cookies. And missed. Red and green sugar scattered all over the floor.

"No, no, like this." Bruce picked up the container and tried to tip it so that a few crystals would shift and land on the closest cookie.

The entire container came pouring out and covered what wasn't already inundated by icing. Nathan stood there and giggled.

"What? They taste better this way." He tried to pretend that he'd done it on purpose, but now Pepper was laughing, too.

"Oh, well, they're fine," Pepper concluded. "We'll just scrape the excess off."

"They look like they've been in a blizzard!" said Nathan. "A red and green blizzard."

A two-note chime sounded. "Attention, all residents," Tony announced. "Dinner is now served. Please proceed to the formal dining room."

"We have a formal dining room?" Bruce asked. "I've been here almost four months, and I've never seen it. We usually either just eat in the kitchen, or else get our own."

"It's down one level," Pepper explained. "I'll show you. Sweetie," she said to Nathan, who was attempting to wipe up the mess with a paper towel, "just leave it. We'll get it later."

"But I have to wrap all the presents later!"

"I'll help you with that," his father said.

"And I will help with the cleaning," said Thor. "Since part of the blame is mine."

They made it to the dining room before anyone else. It was a big place, Bruce observed, big enough to hold maybe fifty people at once. The table was about thirty feet long, but only one end of it had been set, with . . . he counted . . . eleven places. Eleven? Wait a minute. He counted in his head, and could only come up with nine. And that was if you counted Loki, whom Bruce wasn't sure would be out to join them.

But there they were: five on one side, five on the other, and one at the very end.

"Are we expecting company?" he asked Pepper.

Thor's face took on a thunderstruck expression. "I forgot that the ladies will be arriving tonight!"

"Ladies?" asked Nathan.

"My beloved, Lady Jane, and her friend, Lady Darcy. I meant to tell all of you, but . . ."

"But things got crazy? After the day we've had, I don't think anyone will blame you for forgetting." Bruce looked for place cards; there weren't any. He concluded that, unlike an actual formal dinner, they could sit wherever they wanted.

Presently, Clint and Natasha strolled in from wherever they had been. "Where do we sit?" she asked.

Bruce shrugged. "I guess we just sit wherever we want."

"Fine with me." They took seats on the opposite side of the table.

Steve was next to join them. "Aren't there too many places?" he asked, counting. "Why are there two extra plates?"

"We have two more guests arriving," said Tony, coming in with a big pot of spaghetti in his arms. "I sent the car for them; they should be here any minute."

"Oh, my God," said Pepper suddenly. She looked at Thor. "You didn't tell them about . . . Nathan, did you?"

"I did not. Why?"

"I can wear my inducer," the boy offered. "Then I won't scare them."

"They'll be fine once they get to know you," his father said. "Everyone else is."

"No, I'll go get it. Is that okay?" He didn't wait for an answer, but jumped up and ran to his room to retrieve it.

"Poor kid," said Steve. "I don't think he's scary-looking at all."

"Yeah, but you're used to him now," Natasha said. "Admit it, when you first saw him, you were a little nervous."

"I think we all were." Clint looked over at Bruce. "I owe you an apology, Doc. I thought he'd be a problem, but he's been perfectly well-behaved. Granted, he's only been here two days, but still-"

Tony brought in the pot of sauce. "I've just been informed," he told them, "that our guests are on their way up. So go ahead and start. Pass your plates down, and I'll load them up."

Nathan came running back in, wearing his inducer but having not yet activated it. "Can I have two meatballs?" he asked.

"You can have ten, if you want. I made two dozen, so there should be plenty for everybody."

"Thank you!" he called out.

"You're welcome. Now pass your plate up this way, and I'll fill it up."

Nathan lifted his plate gingerly and handed it to his dad, who passed it down the line.

"So tell me what you're learning in school," Bruce asked his son.

"Well, I do kind of an independent study. Cause the other kids are in regular school, but they didn't think I was ready yet. Plus I read a lot on the computer. I found one of your papers. On gamma rays. I didn't understand all of it, but Dr. McCoy helped me."

"One of my papers, huh?" He hadn't realized they'd ever been published. "How'd you find it?"

"Link from Wikipedia. I printed it; it's in with my school stuff, if you want to look at it."

"Maybe later. Here comes your pasta." He set the plate down in front of the boy. "Wow, you got three meatballs! Lucky."

"Thank you, Mr. Stark," Nathan said, as he picked up his fork and dug in.

At that moment, Thor looked up and saw Loki standing in the doorway. "Brother! Come and join us!" He stood and pulled out the chair next to him, which he had been saving.

"Well, don't we look cozy?" The God of Mischief surveyed the scene. "I suppose I might as well. I am a bit hungry." He sat down, ignoring the others' looks, and seemed to be waiting for the food to magically appear on his plate.

Tony cleared his throat. When there was no response, he said, "It's not gonna teleport itself over to you. Pass your plate down."

"What?"

"Your plate, Bambi. Hand it over."

"I do wish you would stop calling me that."

"And I wish you would go jump off a bridge. Can't always get what you want."

Thor tensed a little, but didn't say anything. He knew Stark wasn't actually threatening his brother, just being his usual annoying self.

"—place is huge! How was I supposed to know where they were?"

"I know. I'll have to leave a trail of bread crumbs behind me . . ."

"Ah, our guests have arrived. Ladies!" The thunder god stood as the two women entered the room. "Come and sit and have pasta with us!"

Bruce looked over at his son, who had very quickly pressed his inducer medallion as soon as he had heard the women's voices. Right on the ball, that kid. "Nate, can you move over to the other side of me? I think Miss Jane might like to sit next to Mr. Thor."

"Okay, Dad." Nathan picked up his plate and moved around to the empty place.

"Oh, who is this?" Darcy came over and looked at the boy. "I didn't know you had a little brother, Doc!"

"He's not. He's my son. He's just, um, tall for his age."

"You're not kidding," Tony muttered under his breath. "Wait till the kid takes off the bling."

"This is Nathan. He's on vacation from his school upstate. Nathan, this is Miss Darcy, and Miss Jane."

"Hi." He wasn't sure whether to shake hands, bow, or just wave.

Darcy took the seat opposite him and stared at him as if he were some fascinating zoo exhibit. "Wow, you have a son? How old is he?"

"Almost nine."

"Dad," Nathan said, "I **am** nine. The day before Halloween, remember? You sent me two books and a computer game."

"Did I?" October had been a busy month for them; between busting a neo-Hydra operation in New Jersey (of all places) and analyzing an artifact that had been found at the bottom of a dried-up lake in Oregon, Bruce had been too preoccupied to notice what day it was. He suspected that Pepper, despite all her other duties, had stepped in where he had failed. "You know, now that you mention it, I do remember signing a card. It was blue."

"So who's his mom?" Darcy asked. She passed her plate down for some pasta.

"A woman I used to work with. Uh . . . Nathan wasn't exactly conceived the old-fashioned way. Micky got hold of my DNA—I still don't know how—and combined it with her own _in vitro_. And did some other things to it as well."

"What kinds of things?" asked Jane.

"Why don't we talk about that after dinner? It'd be a shame to spoil this wonderful meal. Could someone please pass the—"

"Oh, my God," Darcy interrupted, staring across the table. "What is **he **doing here?"

Everyone turned to look at Loki, who was sitting there calmly twirling spaghetti onto his fork. "Not my idea," he said, "but no one gave me a choice."

"That is not what you said this morning," Thor contradicted him. "You begged me to let you stay here."

"I would never do anything so undignified as begging! I **asked **you. You could have said no."

"I **did **say no. But you insisted."

"So, what, he lives here now?" Jane asked.

Tony shrugged. "Sort of a rehabilitation-slash-house arrest type thing. Just for the record, I voted no."

"Well, you were outvoted," Loki said smugly. "Is there any salt?"

Nathan saw it and passed it down to him. "Mr. Loki came Christmas shopping with us! I bought him a present, but I don't think anyone else did."

"I thought he was to be punished on Asgard," Jane remarked.

"He was," said Thor. "His punishment was to be stripped of his powers and banished to Midgard permanently. He had nowhere else to go, so he came here. So long as he does not cause trouble, the Midgardian authorities are willing to let him remain here."

"I wouldn't say willing, exactly," said Tony. "Fury was pi—mad when he found out. He only agreed because the big guy insisted. And one screw-up, and Bambi ends up in a maximum-security holding cell."

There was the scrape of a chair being pushed back. "Call me that again, Man of Iron, and I will—"

"You'll what? You can't do anything, and you know it. If you do, you'll get dragged off by a couple of SHIELD goons and locked away for the rest of your unnatural life."

"Not if they do not know about it."

"Yeah, about that: turn around."

Loki did so.

"See that blinking red light up on the wall there? Wave to it."

He caught on quicker than they would have expected. "That is a camera? We are being watched?"

"Twenty-four-seven, Chuckles. So think about that before you decide to go off on me or anyone else. Now sit down and finish your dinner. And . . . sorry for calling you Bambi. I won't do that again."

"Thank you." He sat down, but it seemed Stark wasn't done yet.

"It's a stripper name, and you wouldn't make a good stripper."

"There's a mental image I didn't need," Clint whispered to Natasha.

"I think," Bruce muttered to himself, "I need another Valium."


	5. Nightmares and Mellow Seventies Hits

After dinner, the group moved up to the usual gathering spot in the living room, minus Steve and Pepper, who were handling the cleanup. Nathan brought out the "blizzard cookies" that he had helped decorate, and everyone had at least one.

"These are good," Darcy said. "I love it when they don't skimp on the frosting. You did this?"

Nathan looked sheepish. "I have . . . big hands, and not much control."

"Aw, you're so cute."

"No, I'm not," he said. "Not really. Dad, can I show them now?"

Bruce, who had just returned after retreating to his rooms to take another pill (and promising himself that it would be the last one), said, "I think we need a little more explanation before the big reveal, buddy."

"What, is something wrong with him? Like, he's missing toes or something?"

"It's worse than that. When Micky left Project Minotaur, she was under the influence of a geneticist named Jack Franklin. I don't suppose you've ever heard of him—"

"I have," said Jane. "Horror stories, mostly. They raided an illegal lab of his and found . . . terrible things. It couldn't be as bad as they said, could it?"

"Worse. And up until about four or five years ago, Nathan was one of those terrible things. Go ahead, son. Show them."

Nathan pressed the disc around his neck, and was revealed in all his terrible beauty. Darcy gasped as she took in the scales on his face, the fur all down his arms and his chest, the horns poking out of the scruff on his head.

"This is what Jack Franklin did to him, both before he was born and . . . after. But we won't talk about that," he said quickly, seeing Nathan become uncomfortable. "He's learning, at his school, to be more than the mindless beast he was created to be. He's learning to be human."

"Aren't we all?" Loki muttered, but no one paid him any attention. He sat by himself, pretending that he was above all this togetherness, when in reality he had never felt so alone. They still didn't trust him. Even after he had saved his brother from being taken away by the authorities at the san-ta-closs, or whatever it was called, they still didn't see that he was trying to change.

It was that, or never go home again.

"Wow," Darcy said. "So, like, what can he do?"

"Do?" Nathan was confused. "I do lots of stuff. I can type on the computer if I'm careful not to bang too hard. I like to play Super Chickens. And the one with the zombies. I'm good at that one."

"I mean, like, super stuff. Like, can you punch a hole in the wall or knock down a building or jump really high?"

Jane gave her a sharp look, but Nathan answered the question anyway. "I can hit really hard," he said. "They say I'm almost as strong as the Hulk. And I try not to put holes in things, but sometimes I can't help it. That's why my school has lots of insurance."

"He's gotten a lot better at knowing his limitations," Bruce explained. "How not to hurt people accidentally, what furniture will hold him, that kind of thing. He's not as heavy as he looks—shade over three hundred pounds. But we're not sure if he's done growing yet."

"Yikes! He's still growing?"

"Maybe," said Nathan. "We don't know what the Bad Man did to me yet. I mean, all of what he did. And I probably won't have children of my own, at least not the usual way."

"Well, we don't have to worry about that for a few years, do we, cutie? You know," she said, moving closer to him, "you have your father's eyes."

"Oh, yes," said Bruce. "That's Jack's sense of humor for you. He left the eyes, as a reminder of where he came from. And to torment me, and probably Micky too. See, Jack was in love with her, too, but she only wanted me. That made him furious, and he . . . he took it out on Nathan, the one innocent party in the whole mess."

"That is so not fair! How could he do something like that to a little kid?"

"Jealousy is a powerful emotion. It sometimes causes people to do the unthinkable."

"Indeed," said Thor, looking over at his brother, who was lounging on the sofa and trying to pretend that these people's petty problems did not concern him.

"So what happened to this Franklin guy?" Darcy asked. She took another cookie. "I hope they threw the book at him."

"He's in a maximum-security prison cell," Bruce told her. "For good, I hope. Word is he's not a popular guy behind bars. They don't take kindly to those who hurt kids."

Meanwhile, Nathan had picked up the plate of cookies and was passing it around. "Would you like a cookie, Mr. Loki?"

"Is there a cookie in there somewhere?" He prodded the mound of icing.

"Here." Nathan picked up the top cookie as carefully as he could and handed it over. "They're good."

"Well, if you insist." And beneath the cloud of sugar, the cookie was indeed delicious. "I like these. May I have another?"

"Okay, but just one. Everyone else has to have some, too."

"Fine, then. Just one." He took one, but not without touching every other cookie on the plate. Fortunately, no one noticed. It was a petty thing, but it made him feel better.

"Who wants coffee?" Pepper carried in a tray of mugs. Behind her, Steve brought in the carafe, the sugar bowl, and the creamer, balancing all three delicately using both arms and his chin.

"Can I have coffee, Dad?" Nathan asked.

"I don't know, buddy. Might be a little strong for you." Although he had no idea, really, what effect coffee would have on the boy's system.

"Let him have it!" Thor urged him. "It is a warrior's drink, and the boy is as strong as any warrior! It is better," he said to the boy, "with lots of sugar in it. Come, try a little."

"I . . . guess." It sure smelled good. He held the cup between two fingers while Thor poured him half a cup. Then he added the sugar, eight spoons full (Nathan counted). Then he stirred it ten times, counter-clockwise, and removed the spoon.

"Enjoy, Son of Banner!" He raised his own cup, and drank deeply.

Nathan took a sip of the coffee. He wasn't sure what he had been expecting, but it tasted sweet from all the sugar in it, with a dark taste kind of like chocolate. But not really. He was trying to decide if he liked it or not.

He took another sip and kind of swished it around from one side of his mouth to the other. "It's not bad," he said finally. "But I don't know if I could have it all the time."

"You don't have to," his father told him. "We'll save it for special occasions, how's that?"

Nathan smiled. It looked strange in that scaly, misshapen face, but it was also the most beautiful thing any of them had ever seen. "Okay, Dad."

* * *

They watched a movie called _A Christmas Story_, which was about a little boy and his desire for a Red Ryder BB gun for Christmas.

"Is that normal?" Bruce asked. "For a child to want a weapon from Santa Claus?"

Natasha and Clint gave each other a knowing look.

"Machete," she said.

"Flamethrower," he replied.

"Let me rephrase that: is it normal for someone who's had a normal childhood to want a weapon for Christmas?"

"I don't know," said Tony. "Does anyone in this room even fit that description?"

The one who seemed to be enjoying the movie most, was Steve. This, he told everyone several times, was the kind of Christmas that he remembered. "I never wanted a BB gun, though."

Nathan liked the movie, especially the part where the neighborhood dogs burst in and ate the Christmas turkey. But all too soon, the movie was over, and it was time to go to bed. He wasn't even really tired yet, but Dad had told him that he couldn't fall asleep on the sofa, or he would be there until morning, because no one could move him. "Except," he said, "the Scary Guy. And you don't want him here, do you?"

Nathan didn't like the Scary Guy. He still had trouble understanding how the big green angry guy could also be his dad. The Scary Guy didn't seem to like Nathan, either. They had fought each other twice, once before Nathan knew this was his dad, and once after, and though they had been pretty much equally matched, he didn't like to have to fight his dad.

So the threat was an effective one. Nathan said good night to everyone and went to his room to get ready for bed.

"What a day, huh?" Dad said. "Which pajamas, buddy?"

"The blue ones, please."

"You like blue, do you?"

"Better than green." He smiled, and after a moment, Dad smiled back.

Nathan put his pajamas on, which was a tricky business. The claws made it difficult to pull anything or tug on anything, and he had ripped through lots of clothes before he learned the trick of turning the claws inward and making a fist before putting his arm through the sleeve. The feet were trickier; he had to curl his toes under, and sometimes they scratched the bottoms of his feet. But he barely felt it anymore.

"Are you going to bed now, Dad?"

"Not just yet. I might sit out with the others for a little while longer, and then go read. Don't worry; I won't be too far away. Good night, buddy."

"Night, Dad."

He closed his eyes and thought about having Christmas here, with all his new friends. Even Mr. Loki, who didn't seem to like Christmas much. Maybe he'd change his mind, just like the Grinch. Nathan liked the Grinch—the original cartoon, not the stupid movie. Misha had made him watch that one last year, and he hadn't liked it at all.

This would be a great Christmas. He just knew it.

He fell asleep and dreamed of his mother. Her body was laid out on a little cart that looked like a wheelbarrow, and she was at the end of a procession that included everyone Nathan had ever met in his life. The line stretched out for miles.

"Where are we going?" he asked his dad.

"We're burying her in a special vault, so that she can't ever break out," he said. "It's radiation-proof and lead-lined. Absolutely impenetrable."

"So we can't get in, either?"

"Nothing can get in. It's—"

And suddenly the Bad Man was there, but he looked different. He was as big as Nathan, and muscle-bound like the Hulk. He stood there between the two of them and the cart, growling.

"Get away from him!" Nathan's dad shouted. "Get away from my son!"

The Bad Man-thing charged, and Nathan woke up.

And his dad was still screaming.

"Get away from him, Jack! Don't you hurt him!"

"Dad!" Nathan ran into his dad's room, and found him thrashing around, caught up in the bed covers. He folded them back, and reached down and held his dad in his arms.

"Dad, it's okay. I'm here, I'm all right. The Bad Man can't hurt us anymore. Can you hear me?"

"Nathan! Nathan!" Dad was trembling all over, and Nathan was afraid that the Scary Guy was about to make an appearance. He had to do something to calm him down, right now.

So he did the only thing he could think of.

He sang.

"Midnight at the oasis, send your camel to bed. Dark shadows painting our faces, traces, of romance in our heads . . ."

It was one of Nathan's favorite songs that his mother had sung to him. It always made him think of the Arabian Nights. But now he hoped that the music would help his dad calm down and go back to sleep, or at least not turn green.

* * *

Tony was startled out of a dream of whipped-cream-covered Playmates by the sound of someone singing.

What the hell? Who was singing "Muskrat Love" at one o'clock in the morning? He tried to identify the voice, but couldn't.

Well, there was nothing for it, then. He'd just have to go find out who that was and why they felt moved to sing the mellow hits of the Seventies in the middle of the night. He was fairly sure that none of them had gotten drunk enough to think that singing Captain and Tennille songs at that hour was a good idea, but Clint had been known to hole up with a bottle when he was feeling low.

But the singing wasn't coming from Clint's rooms. It was in the other direction.

Bruce? But he didn't even drink! What was going on?

He tried the door, which fortunately wasn't locked, and tiptoed in, not turning on the light. In the faint light from the hallway he saw the kid standing over his father, holding him tightly and crooning about muskrats in love.

Awwww.

"What are you doing?" he whispered.

Nathan nearly jumped. "I'm sorry," he said. "I . . . he was screaming . . . he had a bad dream, and . . ."

"I get the picture. You know what it was about?"

"The Bad Man. Funny; I dreamed about him too. I wonder if we had the same dream?"

Underneath the kid, Bruce was shaking like a leaf and moaning, not exactly screaming anymore but making noises of distress. His eyes were closed, and he didn't seem to be aware that Tony was in the room.

"I'll be right back." Tony went back to his room for his cell phone, and on the way back, ran into a few other residents of the tower, curious about the commotion.

"What's going on?" Steve asked.

"Bruce is having nightmares. The kid's trying to calm him down. Keep everyone out of there, okay? We don't need ten people crowding into the room and making him nervous. Tell them everything's fine." With any luck, it soon would be.

He dialed a number. "Maria? Can you get me the video feed from Jack Franklin's cell? Yes, I know it's one-thirty in the morning. I need that feed now, or we're going to have a situation here. A big, green situation, if you know what I mean. Thanks. Yeah, I'll hold."

He went back into the room. Nathan was crooning "Dream Weaver" now. It looked like Bruce had stopped shaking, but still wasn't waking up.

"Where'd you learn those songs? They're like way before your time."

"My mother. She used to sing to me to calm me down. I don't know all the words, though."

"That's okay. It's the sound of your voice that's getting to him."

"Did I wake everyone up?"

"Kind of," Tony said with a grin. "I told them everything was all right. It is all right, isn't it? For the sake of my furniture, if nothing else."

As if on cue, Bruce's eyes opened. "What . . . what did he do?"

Misunderstanding, Tony said, "Sung you some easy listening music. I guess you were dreaming about Jack Franklin. I have something to show you."

He held up his phone. The video feed showed the infamous scientist sleeping on the bunk in his cell. There was a date and time feed down in the corner. Bruce fumbled for his glasses and looked at it.

"See, Dad?" Nathan said. "He can't hurt us anymore. I dreamed about him, too."

"He had you . . . locked in a cage, and he was poking you with a cattle prod, just to see you jump. And he made me watch."

"He used to do that a lot," Nathan muttered, almost inaudibly. "To test my pain reaction. I think he liked it."

"Bastard," Bruce spat.

"Dad!"

"Well, he is! I hope he rots in prison."

"You think you're gonna be okay now? Or do I need to dig out the best of Bread?" Tony quipped.

Bruce looked at his son. "What did you sing to me?"

"Mother's old songs. She used to sing to me sometimes when I was scared."

"Figures. Micky had the worst taste in music. She liked the sappiest soft rock you ever heard. She tortured me one afternoon by playing 'All Out of Love' over and over again. I hate Air Supply."

"Mental note: remove all Air Supply tracks from the music system. Wait a minute, I don't think I have any Air Supply tracks. I think we're good."

"Do you need me to stay," Nathan asked his father, "or can I go back to bed?"

"I'll be fine, buddy. If I can't get back to sleep, I'll just sit up and read. No reason you should miss any sleep. You're okay now, right?"

The boy nodded.

There was a tap on the door, and Natasha stuck her head in. "Everything all right in here?"

"We're all fine here," Tony said. "Come on, kid, let's leave your dad in peace."

They left the room. Natasha was about to leave as well, and then she saw something on the night stand. She went over and picked it up. "What are these?" she asked, shaking the small bottle. "And don't tell me allergy pills, cause I know you don't have any allergies."

Bruce sighed. "They're Valium."

"How long have you been taking them?"

"Just today. One this morning, before the shopping trip; one after dinner. That's it."

"That better be it. It's too easy to become dependent on these things, and then what happens when they stop working?"

"I just . . . needed a little extra help, that's all."

"If you needed help," she said, "all you had to do was ask. That's what we're here for."

"I don't want everyone to feel like they're walking on eggshells around me. I don't think I was that close to—to an episode. I was trying to head it off before I got that close."

"Well, no more self-medicating."

"I know what I'm doing."

She gave him a pointed look. "The last time I heard that from someone," she said, "was right before he blew his head off."

"Ouch! Point taken. I'll stay away from them, from now on."

"You'd better. I won't say anything to anyone just yet, but if I find out you're back on them . . . I won't be happy. Clear?"

"Yes, ma'am."

She smiled at him. "I don't know what Franklin did to that kid, but I'd be surprised if you didn't have nightmares about it. I wouldn't have let the bastard live, myself."

"I know he can't hurt us anymore. That's fine with me. You can take those, if you want. I won't be needing them."

"I'll go flush them," she said. "Night, Bruce."

"Good night."

He lay in the dark a while, trying to think of good things. Micky's awful music, God. The steady stream of Seventies pop that drifted out of her CD player hadn't really annoyed him as much as he made out. Some of the songs, he actually liked. In small doses. But he would never admit it.

It had been sheer genius for Nathan to think of singing to calm him down. Anyone else would have tried to wake him up, and that would definitely not have gone well. The Other Guy had rattled the bars of his cage tonight, and how close had he been to breaking through? Too damn close.

But Natasha was right about the Valium; at some point, he would have developed a tolerance, and been unable to take enough without overdosing. If it was even possible for him to do so.

_And would that be such a bad thing?_

He quickly shunted that line of thinking aside, and thought of other pleasant things. Snow, for instance. He had spent much of the last few years in warm places in Africa, in South America, on the Indian sub-continent, and it had been a long time since he'd seen snow. Maybe if it snowed soon, they could all go outside and have a snowball fight. It would be fun.

He lay there thinking of all the fun things they would do this week, and never noticed when sleep claimed him once again.

There were no further dreams.


	6. House Guests and House Arrest

Nathan was the first one up, again. He listened at the door of his dad's room, heard nothing, and then went to find himself some breakfast. There was still a full box of Pop Tarts on the top shelf, but he knew that taking other people's property was wrong, so he decided to wait and ask if he could have one.

He had a little trouble pouring the cereal, but it all landed on the counter, so he got it back into the box without too much trouble. The milk was harder, though. He spilled a great deal on the floor before figuring out that if he put the bowl on a level surface, he could hold the milk bottle with both hands and thus avoid spilling it.

Once he had put the milk away, it was time to clean up his mess. He looked around for some paper towels, but there weren't any out on the counter. Or in the upper cabinets. He was bending down to look in the lower cabinets when his dad came in.

"Looking for something, sport?"

"Paper towels," he said. "I kind of made a mess."

"Oh, dear." Bruce looked at the puddle of milk. "Is there milk left?"

"Yeah, I think there's enough."

The paper towels were in the tall cabinet next to the fridge. Nathan made sure to remember that in case he needed them again. "Thanks, Dad."

"Here, I'll help you." Together they wiped up the spill, no small job since it was about the size of a dinner plate. It took half the roll of towels to do the job, because they were the cheap store brand and about as absorbent as a wet noodle. But eventually, the cleanup was done.

"Can I watch cartoons now?"

"Sure. Just remember to keep the volume down. People are still sleeping. I'll be here." He took a seat at the counter bar, waiting for the coffee to finish brewing.

"Are you sure you're okay, Dad?"

It was a question he knew he would have to face from just about everyone this morning. "I'm sure. You did a good thing last night, Nate. I don't know what would have happened if you hadn't been there."

"I don't like the Scary Guy."

"Know what? I don't either."

"Even though he saved the world and stuff . . . there's just no room for him here."

"He's pure, uncontrolled rage. There's no room for that anywhere. Let's not talk about this right now. Where did you put the cereal?"

"In the cabinet."

"I figured that. Which cabinet?"

"That one," Nathan said, pointing. "I think there's enough for one more bowl."

"Someone will have to go shopping, then."

"Can I come? I'll be good, I promise. I won't wander off, and I'll stay right with you—"

"Me? What makes you think I'm going shopping? Once was enough. No, buddy, I thought today we'd stay in and wrap some presents. How's that sound? We'll let someone else handle the shopping."

Nathan thought about it. Wrapping presents did sound like fun. He was worried, though, that the fact that his dad didn't feel up to doing the shopping meant that he wasn't as okay as he thought. "Okay," he said at last.

"Okay. Go have your breakfast and watch your cartoons. We'll wait for the others, and we'll have a wrapping party. Maybe we'll make a game of it."

"A game? How?"

"Give me time; I'll figure something out. Hold the bowl with both hands," he said, as Nathan came within an inch of causing another spill. "Gently. Don't break it."

The boy nodded and carried the bowl as carefully as he could to the sofa, where he sat and flicked through the TV channels in search of cartoons. The only thing he found that was even remotely interesting was _Curious George_, so he stuck with that.

Loki came in and sat down beside him, just as he had done the previous morning. "What is this?" he asked. "Where is Bob the Sponge?"

"Spongebob, not Bob the Sponge," Nathan said. "It's not on yet. This is Curious George. He's a monkey."

"Oh. Why?"

"Cause monkeys are cute. Just watch it."

"I prefer the sponge."

"Well, I checked. It's not on till nine. So watch this."

"Do I at least get breakfast?"

"Cereal's in the cabinet. Milk's in the fridge. Go get it."

The god looked put out by this suggestion that he should have to make his own breakfast. "Very well. But I do this under protest."

Nathan just ignored him. Some people were just grouchy in the mornings. It didn't mean anything.

Loki came back with an uncooked Pop Tart in his hand. "This will do. Less messy."

"Hey! Those aren't yours!"

"They're my brother's. He will not mind if I take one."

"No, you should wait and ask him!"

"Better to ask forgiveness than permission."

"When have you ever asked for anyone's forgiveness?" Banner remarked.

"Stay out of this, Doctor."

Thor came clomping into the kitchen, drawn by the smell of coffee. "Good morning, friends! Might I have some of the wondrous brew?"

"Pot's right there," Bruce said. "Try not to use up all the sugar this time."

"But it tastes better with sugar!"

"**Some** sugar is okay. Just leave some for someone else."

"Very well." The Asgardian poured himself a steaming mug, added six spoons full of sugar, and tasted the result. "This is acceptable." Then he went to the cabinet where he kept his Pop Tarts. "What is this? Who has eaten one of my pastry delights?"

Loki quickly shoved the remains of the Pop Tart into his mouth before he was caught red-handed. Nathan gave him a dirty look, but said nothing.

One by one, the others drifted in. Steve and Natasha gave Bruce questioning looks, as if asking how he was, and he smiled and nodded to show that he was all right. Clint came in, grabbed a cup of coffee, and immediately disappeared again, heading for the shooting range to get some practice time in. Tony didn't make an appearance at all until nearly ten o'clock, and then he barely spoke to anyone until he'd had his first cup of coffee.

The girls slept even later, due to jet lag, but by eleven everyone was up, if not dressed, and the subject of the day's plans came up.

"We're wrapping presents," Nathan said, briefly tearing himself away from something called _Umizoomi_. "Dad said so."

"I thought we could use a quiet day in," Bruce explained, "after yesterday's excitement. We could split into teams, and make it a competition."

"What, you mean, see who wraps the fastest, that kind of thing?" Tony was intrigued by the idea.

"I thought it might be interesting. Maybe three teams? How many people do we have?"

But the wrapping competition would not happen today. Suddenly, cell phones began ringing all over the room. All were receiving the same message: some sort of blue aliens were shooting up downtown, and the response team was needed.

"Looks like we'll have to put the wrapping on hold," Tony said. "I'll meet everyone on the roof."

"I'll get the weapons," said Clint.

"I'll help you," said Natasha.

"Anyone know where I put my costume?" Steve went in search of a laundry basket.

Bruce looked at his son sadly. "So much for our quiet day at home. We'll do the wrapping when we get back, okay?"

"Can I come?" Nathan asked. "I can help."

"Not this time, buddy. I need you to stay here and keep the ladies and Mr. Loki company. You can watch some movies if you want. Sound good?"

"Why can't you stay here with us? They don't need you, do they?"

"Yeah, they do. All of us means **all** of us. Besides, he needs to come out sometimes. He likes smashing stuff, and if it's stuff that helps us, that makes me happy, too."

"Don't forget extra clothes."

"Good point. I'll go get them."

"Don't hurry back on my account," said Loki from his place on the sofa. "Just because I'm under house arrest doesn't mean you should care about me."

"Can we not take him with us?" Thor asked.

"You're kidding, right?" Tony looked at him as if questioning his sanity. "Bring the psychotic murdering supervillain along with us? No offense. Seriously, Fury will shit kittens! I know, I know, language, sorry. No. The guy under house arrest **stays **under house arrest. In the house!"

"And who will supervise him?"

"Um, hello?" Darcy waved at them. "Official agent of SHIELD here! Well, consultant, anyway. He'll be fine! We'll park him in front of _Spongebob _with a few beers and some pizza and he'll be fine! And we'll watch the cutie, too, only without the beer. He can have pizza, right?"

"We may be a while . . ." Bruce began, but she cut him off.

"We'll be fine! One big happy family! Go on, go save New York! We'll be here when you get back! Let's all sing Christmas carols!"

"How much coffee have you had today?" Jane asked in amazement.

"Only four cups!"

"Oy." This was going to be a fun day.

"I do not need a babysitter!" Loki proclaimed indignantly.

"Would you rather be locked in a cell?" Tony demanded. "Let's go, people! And let's try to break less of New York than we did last time, okay? I'm talking to you, big guy." He put a hand on Bruce's shoulder.

The man shrugged. "Like he listens to me. Oh, we need to do food shopping on our way home." Like they were regular people, going to an office for a few hours.

"Bye, Dad," Nathan called out, and then he went right back to watching his cartoons.

Thor looked at his brother with a serious expression. "Do not betray my trust, brother. If you are not here when I return, I will hunt you down myself."

"And what? Kill me?"

"If necessary."

"You're kidding. He's kidding, right?" He looked around for support, and found none.

"If he doesn't," Barton said, "I will. Let's go."

Jane flipped around channels until she found something interesting. "Oh, look, guys, here's a Christmas movie. This looks good. Come sit down and watch it."

"Can't we watch Spongebob?" Nathan asked.

"Later. Let's see what this is about."

He sat and watched the movie. After a moment of pouting, Loki sat, reluctantly, and found himself enjoying the movie in spite of himself. Darcy flitted about, hanging up decorations that she had found in a box somewhere.

"Why isn't there a tree?" she demanded. "There needs to be a tree! I want a Christmas tree! Tomorrow is Christmas Eve, and we have to have a tree!"

"I can go get you a tree," Loki offered.

Jane gave him a dubious look. "Ha. Nice try. You're not leaving this room until the others get back. So don't even think about it!"

He put on his most contrite expression. "But . . . I want to help. I can help!"

"Later. Maybe later, we'll all go and pick out a tree. Right now, we need to sit and watch the movie."

"Well . . . if you insist." He turned his attention back to the movie, but there was a look on his face, which the others missed, that suggested that this was not over. The wheels were turning in his brain, and where they would stop was anyone's guess. But one thing was for sure: if anyone had known what he was planning, they would have tied him down and handcuffed him to a heavy piece of furniture. And then knocked him out, just to be safe.

* * *

The little blue aliens were not pushovers. They were nowhere near as tough as the Chitauri, but the battle was long and hard, and despite their best efforts, stuff did get broken. But no civilians were seriously hurt.

"We need to lead them away from populated areas!" Captain America ordered the others. "Tony, can you get their attention?"

"_You kidding me? Attention is my middle name!" _came the response over the comm. _"Consider it done!" _He flew straight up, a red and gold streak against the white sky, and then off to the southeast.

"_I think it's working!" _Natasha said.

"Okay, you and Hawkeye stay here and take care of the stragglers. Thor, Hulk, you're with me." He moved up to intercept the invaders, trusting the others to follow.

"Come, friend!" Thor called out. "You are needed!"

The emerald giant looked down at him. "Smash?"

"Lots of smashing! Hurry, or there will be none left!"

"SMAAAAAASH!" With that, the Hulk was off in the direction the others were headed, in great leaps and bounds. He couldn't fly, but he could jump great distances.

* * *

"Deck the halls with boughs of holly! Fa la la la la, la la la laaaaaa!"

"Would you please," Loki moaned, "stop that horrid singing?"

"Aw, c'mon, sweet cheeks! Get in the Christmas spirit!" Darcy thrust into his hand a plastic ball with a metal hook on the end. "Hang this up on the garland there!" She pointed up to an impossibly green strand of fake foliage strung over the door.

He looked up at it. "Why?"

"Cause it's festive! Lighten up, Darth Vader! Tis the season to be jolly!" she sang, and Nathan joined in. "Fa la la la la—"

"Enough!" The exclamation was enough to make even Jane, who was at the counter working on her laptop, take notice. "I have had enough of your singing and your garlands and your Christmas spirit! I wish only to be left in peace!" He stomped out of the room.

"Where are you going?" Jane asked him.

"To my room. Is that still allowed?" Rather than wait for an answer, he continued on his way out of the room, only to stop and turn back. "And my name is **not** Darth Vader!"

"Oh, stop being such a Grinch!" Darcy called out, but he was already gone.

"Should we go after him?" Nathan asked.

"He's fine," said Jane. "He'll sulk for a while, and then come out again. Just let him be for now."

"I still wish we had a tree, though," Darcy mused. "We should get a tree."

"We have to wait here till the others get back."

"**If** they get back."

At that, Nathan looked stricken. "Don't say that! They'll come back!"

"Okay, okay! I'm sorry! They'll come back, okay? Now can you help me put the rest of these up?"

"Okay." Nathan picked up the red plastic ornament that Loki had dropped, and hung it in the center of the green garland. "It looks lonely," he said. "We need more."

"We have more. I'll get more. Now where did I find these ones?" Darcy wandered off to find more decorations, and Jane went back to work. Nathan looked around at what they'd already hung up, and wondered if he should move anything.

None of them gave another thought to Loki, until the others returned and found him missing.

* * *

"Let's go over this one more time," Tony said. The other Avengers were gathered around, their expressions ranging from amusement to annoyance to outright fury. "You just let him go off by himself?"

"He said he was going to his room!" Darcy nearly sobbed. "He wanted to be alone!"

"He's not supposed to be alone! That's the whole point of being under house arrest! None of you even checked on him?"

Jane sighed. "I thought you guys had some sort of tracking device on him. You do, don't you?"

The Avengers looked at each other. They hadn't thought of something as simple as a tracking device, mostly because they had expected someone to be with him at all times.

"There is no point in assigning blame," Thor pointed out. "We waste valuable time that could be spent searching."

"Good point," said Steve. "He can't have gone far. Let's spread out and search—"

"Excuse me, sir," the synthesized voice of JARVIS interrupted. "Mr. Loki is outside the building."

"We know, JARVIS," Tony said. "That's the problem."

"No, sir. He is standing on the sidewalk outside the building, at this moment."

There was another of those awkward silences, when everyone looked at each other, not knowing what to do. Finally Darcy said, "I'll go down and get him. It's my fault he left in the first place. I should fix this."

"I will go with her," said Thor. The two of them headed for the elevator.

Now that the crisis was averted, Tony had time to look around and notice all the decorations. "Did Pepper come back early or something?"

"No, sir, she is still in her meeting," said JARVIS.

"We did this," said Nathan. "Well, it was Miss Darcy's idea. She wanted a tree, too. Can we go get a tree?"

"We have a tree. Somewhere. I don't know, I usually let Pepper handle the details." He shrugged and went to pour himself a drink. "Anyone else hungry? I'm hungry. Let's order out. Chinese okay?"

"Can we wrap now?" Nathan asked. "Please, Dad?"

"Not just yet, buddy," Bruce said. "We just got in the door. Give us a few minutes to decompress, and we'll be ready. Go watch your cartoons or something."

Suddenly there was the ding of the elevator. Not the main elevator, off to the side. The big freight elevator, behind them. When the doors opened, the business end of a huge evergreen tree poked through.

"Make way!" Thor, who was carrying most of the tree, called out. "Make way for the Tree of Christmas!"

"He bought a tree," Jane said with wonder in her voice. "That's where he went."

"Probably stole it," said Tony. "Oh, well, have them send me the bill."

"It's stuck!" came Darcy's voice from way back in the elevator.

"Push harder!" Loki urged her.

"Now there's a comment that can be taken out of context," Tony muttered. The others glared at him. "What?"

"Maybe we could help," said Steve, "instead of just standing here making inappropriate comments."

"That was not inappropriate! What **they **said, that **might **have been inappropriate, but—"

"Shut up and pull!" Steve had already grasped hold of one of the branches and was tugging on it in an effort to get the tree unstuck.

"All the needles will come off! I am **not **cleaning that up!" But Tony moved around to the other side and tried to find a place to grab on. He pulled, and the tree moved . . . about a quarter of an inch.

"It's too big!" Darcy called out. "It won't fit through!"

"Okay, now that is **really **inappropriate!"

"Shut up!"

"Excuse me, Miss Pigtails? Do you have any idea who you're talking to? Well, don't just stand there, you useless people!" he said, addressing the remaining three. Four, if you counted Nathan, who was standing back trying not to be in the way. "Maybe if we all pull together, we can get it out!"

"Now who's being inappropriate?" Clint teased him.

"Very funny, Bird Man. Grab a branch and let's get to it!"

In the end they all gathered around, trying to find parts of the tree to hold that wouldn't cause it to shed all its needles. Nathan was at the back, by the elevator doors, because he was the strongest (although Thor still contested this) and needed the best leverage point.

"All right, everyone," Steve gave the order. "On three. One . . . two . . . **three**!"

With everyone pulling at once, the tree finally came free, so suddenly that the two people in front, Natasha and Bruce, were sent hurtling across the room. She hit the long couch; he landed face-down on the floor.

The tree had lost some needles, but no branches. And what few had been compressed by the elevator would fluff out again in no time, Tony was sure of it. And they could cover the rest with ornaments. Where were the ornaments? Where the hell was Pepper, who should be doing this in the first place?

As it happened, she'd just walked through the door, and was staring at the misshapen tree and the decorations that hadn't been there when she'd left for her meeting. And why were people on the floor? Ugh, pine needles in the rug. They clogged up the vacuum and were impossible to get up completely. They'd still be picking up pine needles at Easter.

"You bought a tree," she said flatly.

Tony approached her, smiling in what he hoped was an ingratiating manner. "How was your meeting?"

"Why did you buy a tree? We have a tree!"

"Wasn't my idea. Our guest," he nodded toward Loki, who was helping Darcy out of the elevator, "took it upon himself to go and buy us a tree, and try to drag it back here on his own."

"Why was he on his own?" Her eyes narrowed dangerously.

"'Good question!" he said, as if the thought had just occurred to him. "Why **was** he on his own?"

"Because . . ." Jane thought quickly. "We wanted to test the tracking device he has on him."

"Tracking device?" Now Pepper was giving them her I-smell-bullshit glare.

"That's right!" Tony said. "We, um, planted a tracking device on his—"

"Underwear," Darcy offered helpfully. "What?" she said, when Loki gave her a strange look. "You agreed to it, **remember**?"

"You could have put it somewhere else," he said, playing along. "It's very uncomfortable."

"We could always implant one under your skin," said Bruce. "I've got another one ready to go right now."

"**Under my skin?"**

"Only so you won't lose it when you change your clothes," Tony explained. "That's why we put it in your underwear."

"This is humiliating, you know."

"Suck it up, Reindeer Games. It's that or a cell. Or being handcuffed to your brother, which I doubt either one of you would enjoy."

"Okay," Pepper said quickly, trying to drag this conversation back on track (or at least out of Loki's underwear). "So where do we put the tree?"


	7. Christmas Eve, part 1

After what everyone insisted on referring to as "the tree incident", a tracking device was implanted into Loki's left arm, just above the elbow. He scratched at it for a bit, but when that proved unsuccessful, he just sat there and made occasional _sotto voce _remarks about how much he wanted to hurt various people, mostly Tony.

The wrapping did finally get done, though there was no competition. Nathan and his dad wrapped most of his, and when it came time for him to wrap the one for his dad, he asked Miss Potts to help him. She was more than happy to help, even after dragging the box of Christmas tree ornaments out of storage. She could have just told the others where they were, but she didn't trust them not to break anything.

The tree was now decked out in the most eclectic arrangement of ornaments that Nathan had ever seen. There was a pulsing, multi-colored, LED star on top that changed colors every time it blinked. Some of the lights blinked, too.

"Wow," he said. "That's . . . pretty. The tree at school is just red and white. It's taller, too."

"A taller tree probably wouldn't have fit in the elevator," his father said. He was glad that they were here. It had been a long time since he'd had anything resembling a normal Christmas.

"Why did Mr. Loki go and buy a tree, anyway?"

"You'd have to ask him that. I'm surprised he's not up yet. He's usually one of the first ones."

"He's usually not trapped under a snoring thunder god," said Loki, entering the room. "Thor insisted that we sleep in the same bed last night."

At Bruce's shocked look, he explained, "Not like that! He refused to let me out of his sight again, after yesterday. We haven't shared a bed since we were children, and now I remember why. He steals the covers. And snores like a pig."

That made Nathan giggle. His father smiled, but Loki just sighed. "I want my own room. Chain me down if you must, but I refuse to spend another night with that bed-hogging, cover-stealing, chainsaw-snoring idiot!"

"I think you're being a bit hard on him," said Bruce. "He only wants what's best for you."

"It took me twenty minutes to crawl out from underneath him!"

"TMI, TMI!" Tony came into the room with his hands over his ears. "Whatever you two were up to last night, I don't want to know about it!"

Loki sighed in frustration. "That big oaf," he began, "insisted that we sleep in the same bed last night. He refuses to let me more than an arm's length away from him. He is a heavy sleeper, and he . . . rolls around a lot."

"So you weren't—"

"No! We do not have that kind of relationship! Besides, he only has eyes for the mortal woman. Never mind that now. If I cannot have a room of my own, then at least put in another bed so that I won't be in danger of being crushed as I sleep."

"I have plenty of rooms. Fixing one up for you should be no problem. What are you gonna do for me, though?"

"I need to do something for you? Is that how it works?"

"Not usually, but if I'm gonna do something nice for you, you need to be nice to me in return. Your room will be ready by the end of the day. By then, I should know what I want you to do for me."

"And I have to do this, whatever it is?"

"Yup." An evil grin spread across Tony's face at the thought of torturing the former god. Not literal torture, but something that would be just as bad. It might take him all day to think of it, but it would be a doozy.

"What if I say no?"

"Then you get another night of the bed-hogging snorer. That can't be much fun."

"You are blackmailing me."

"Hey, my house, my rules. You don't like them, leave . . . oh, wait, you **can't **leave, can you? Sucks to be you."

"Come on, Mr. Loki," Nathan called out. "Spongebob is starting."

There was a tense moment when Loki and Tony locked eyes, neither refusing to back down. Then, Loki broke away. "I'm coming," he said, ignoring the smile of triumph on the billionaire's lips.

"Good morning, friends!" Thor boomed.

"Heard you had quite a night last night," said Tony.

"Really? I know nothing of . . ." Then his face took on a hard cast. "Whatever he has told you, it is a lie."

"So you don't snore and roll around and steal the covers?"

"I am a very deep sleeper! I do nothing of the kind!" He opened the cabinet and took out his box of Pop Tarts, only to find it mysteriously light. "This box was new two days ago! Who has been eating my Tarts of the Pop?"

"You sure it wasn't you?" Tony asked him. "Cause you can really pack 'em away. I mean, no offense . . . you burn a lot of calories working out. You need the food."

"You have another box," Loki called out.

"And how would you know that, brother?"

"I, um . . . saw them when I was looking for something else?"

"Uh oh," Nathan said.

Thor strode angrily up to where Loki sat on the sofa. "Keep your hands off my breakfast!"

"Fine! I'm not sleeping with you anymore!"

Clint, who had been on his way into the kitchen, turned around and went right back out. He didn't want any part of whatever this was.

"I only wanted to keep you safe!"

"By lying on top of me? Tell me, why is it that in a bed big enough to hold six people, you insist on occupying every inch of it at once? Including the bit that I was lying on?"

"I can't help it if I move when I sleep!"

"Do I want to know what's going on?" Natasha, who had come in to pour herself a cup of coffee, asked.

"I'll explain later," said Bruce. "Go and warn Steve before he walks in on this and jumps to the wrong conclusion."

"I mean, not that it's any of my business who grown . . . men . . . sleep with, but they could be a little more discreet about it."

"It's not what you think," he said. "Come on. Nathan," he called out, raising his voice to be heard over the TV volume (which Nathan had turned up to try and drown out the arguing), "I'll be right back, okay?"

The boy either didn't hear or didn't respond. Bruce just shrugged and led Natasha out of the room.

They found Steve outside his rooms, down on the seventy-fifth floor. "Don't go upstairs yet," Bruce warned him. "Bit of an argument going on."

"And by that you mean . . ."

"Stuff might get broken. Let's just wait down here until we get the all clear. Give them a few minutes to sort it out."

"Who? Who's sorting what out?"

He might as well tell him. "Thor found out Loki's been stealing his Pop Tarts."

"Um . . ." Steve actually looked guilty. "I had one, last night. I meant to tell him, but . . . everything got so crazy, and . . ."

"You can tell him later. You know, I don't think I've ever seen your part of the tower before. Any chance we can have a guided tour?"

"Not much to see, really." The Super-Soldier shrugged.

"That's not what I heard," said Natasha. "Someone told me you've been collecting vintage recruitment posters and old war memorabilia. I'd love to see some of it."

"Well . . . I suppose, since we've got the time."

He led them into his "apartment." The first room they came to was a sitting room, which looked like a lounge in a classy hotel. There weren't many personal touches in here, and the room looked mostly unused. The Avengers spent most of their time together on the top level, when they were just hanging out.

There was a kitchen, but a very small one. When Natasha opened the fridge, all she found inside was a gallon of water and a takeout container. She closed it again and resisted the urge to look in the cabinets. No doubt they would be just as empty.

The bedroom was nice. It was about what she expected his bedroom to look like, and here his true personality resided. It was mostly done in brown and cream, and on the wall over the bed was a framed pencil sketch of a young man in uniform.

"Is that . . ." She groped for the name.

"Bucky? Yeah, that's him. I did it just before he shipped out. I guess it was in with my things, so I had it framed."

"I like it. Do you have any more?"

"I, um . . . I've been working on a few, in my spare time . . ."

"Do you mind if I see them? I promise I'll be nice."

"Well . . . all right." He picked up a sketch pad on the bedside table and folded back the cover.

The top picture was of her.

When had he done this? Had he drawn it from memory, alone here in his room, or had he sat there with a drawing pad in his lap while they were watching TV or something, surreptitiously putting her image down on the paper, line by line?

"This is beautiful," she said. "Are you going to finish it?"

Steve looked a bit embarrassed. "Um, I . . . I think so. I was working on a group picture, like an official portrait, but I can't get it right. Something about the eyes . . ."

"I think the eyes look fine."

"No, I mean—here, take a look." He flipped pages to about the middle of the pad. There were six mini-portraits, seemingly unconnected, and below the faces, only sketchy lines representing bodies. "See, it's not finished yet. I just can't get it right."

"Maybe if you had a photograph to work from?" she suggested.

"If everyone would sit still long enough to take one, that might work. I'll see if I can find a camera with a timer."

"There's a camera in your cell phone, you know."

He looked at her quizzically.

"The phone that Fury gave you? It has a camera built in. I can show you how to use it. It's actually pretty easy. The picture quality isn't always that great, but as a point of reference, it shouldn't be a problem."

Meanwhile, Bruce was across the room, examining Steve's bookshelves. It's been said that you can tell a lot about a person by the books they read. Most of Steve's books were historical in nature, catching him up on the seventy years he spent in the ice, but there were a few recent bestsellers mixed in, along with some dump-bin paperbacks and . . . _Stranger in a Strange Land. _Bruce slid the hardcover off the shelf and looked at it, remembering how he had read his own copy in junior high, until his dad found it and chucked it out the window.

There was a torn bit of paper between pages 78 and 79. So he'd started the book, but hadn't had time to read much of it. As if any of them had the time to sit and read these days. He put the book back on the shelf and went to join Steve and Tasha in the next room, which had been designed as a second bedroom but now housed Steve's collection.

It was impressive.

"Where did you get all these?" Natasha was asking Steve.

"Some of them," he said, "I found in antique shops, but most of them, believe it or not, were things that people sent to me, after that magazine interview came out. I happened to mention that I collect things like this, and the next day, the packages started arriving. It's almost kind of scary."

"I think it's sweet. No one ever sends me anything."

"This one's special," he said, pointing to a framed photograph of a company of soldiers, sitting around at ease in front of a flagpole. "That's our unit. This guy here—" he pointed to a laughing soldier in the front row—"he's the only one who's still alive. He's in a nursing home in Akron, Ohio. I stopped in to see him when we were on our grand tour."

"I wondered where you'd gone."

Bruce cleared his throat. "I think it's probably safe to go back upstairs now."

"How can you tell?" Steve asked.

"The building's still standing."

"You two go up. I've got to make a phone call."

Natasha looked at him quizzically, but didn't ask. If he'd wanted them to know who it was he was calling, he would have said. She and Bruce headed for the elevator, leaving the Super-Soldier alone in his room of memories.

Let's see . . . it was quarter past eight now, which meant it was one-fifteen PM in London. She might be out, in which case he would call back in a few hours, or she might be puttering around the place. In any event, he had to try.

He dialed the number on the black landline telephone in the center of the room (which most people were surprised to learn still worked), and waited to see if she would answer. When it rang five times, he began to get nervous.

Then her voice, still the same after all these years, was in his ear. _"Hello?"_

"Merry Christmas."

"_Oh! It's you!"_

"I couldn't let this day go by without talking to you. Did you get the package I sent you?"

"_Yes, it's lovely, thank you. Did you get mine?"_

"I sure did. Listen, I . . . I've been thinking—"

"_Yes?"_

"I know you said you didn't want me to come see you, but—"

"_Oh, no,"_ she said, _"don't trouble yourself. You're so busy these days, I hate to be a bother."_

"You're no bother. Besides, I still owe you a dance."

"_I haven't been dancing in years."_

"Let me come visit, anyway. Maybe in the spring."

"_I don't even know if I'll still be here in the spring."_

"All the more reason to come as soon as possible. I'll take some vacation time. I've got seventy years of back benefits coming to me."

She laughed a little at that. _"We'll talk more in the new year. It was wonderful to hear your voice."_

"Same here. I'll call you next week."

"_I'll be waiting."_

_Yes, you will, won't you? _Steve thought, as he hung up. _The same way you've been waiting for me all these years. You were one of the few who never gave up on me._

* * *

When they got back upstairs, Natasha and Bruce were pleasantly surprised to find Loki and Thor sitting on opposite ends of the sofa, Nathan between them. They were, all three, munching Pop Tarts and watching Spongebob.

"Situation contained, I guess." Natasha sat down on the shorter of the two sofas, inviting Bruce to join her. He sat about an arm's length away from her.

"Tree looks good," she remarked.

"Do you know how long it's been since I've seen a real Christmas tree?"

She shook her head.

"Probably five years. At least. I never felt right having one, anyway. I'm part Jewish."

"Really?" That hadn't come up in his file.

"On my mother's side. You know my Uncle Nathan, that you're named after?" he shot in his son's direction. Nathan looked away from the show briefly, and nodded. "He was my mother's uncle, really. He was a concentration camp survivor."

"Wow." Clint, who had drifted back in as soon as the coast was clear, took a seat in the armchair. "Which camp, do you know?"

"I'm not sure. I tried looking it up a few years ago, but I couldn't find him. I remember once when I was about four, and it was a warm day-it might have been the Fourth of July, but I'm not sure-and he rolled his sleeves up, and I asked him what those numbers were for."

Steve came in, nodded to the others, and found a chair.

"What did he say?" Natasha asked.

"He said, 'They are here to remind me, and all of us, that there is evil in the world. But we survive.' I've always remembered that. We survive."

"Sound like he was quite a guy," said Steve.

"He was. He died when I was in high school. You know he spoke three languages? He did some translating at the Jewish Community Center. Helping recent immigrants, and such. Because it's not enough just to survive; making the world a better place is what it's really all about."

"Well, that's what we're doing." Tony sat on the floor in front of the coffee table. "Isn't it?" He stretched lazily and leaned back, propping himself up on his elbows. "What shall we do today, little family of mine? Last-minute shopping? Caroling?"

"Who is Carol?" asked Thor.

"Christmas carols," Natasha explained, "are songs that we sing at this time of year, to celebrate the season. Sometimes people go from house to house, singing. It dates back to the Victorian tradition, I believe."

Loki started to say something, but his brother gave him a look. "I think not. Perhaps we could have a fire? That is **our** tradition."

"Yeah, sure," Tony said. He'd had the fireplace put in for just such a reason. "What else can we do?"

Darcy and Jane came in and sat on the floor in front of the long couch, Jane at Thor's feet, and Darcy in front of Loki. She twisted around and looked up at him.

"I never got to thank you for the tree."

"You're welcome." He tucked his legs under him to make room for her.

"Looks like I've got a few more presents to buy. Wanna come shopping with me?"

Thor and Jane looked at them in surprise.

"Are you sure that is wise? After yesterday's . . . adventure?"

"You can come, if you want. Like a double date. Well, sort of. Anyway, he's got his transmitter now so we won't lose him, and I just need a couple of things anyway. We won't be out for too long. So what do you say?"

The two of them looked at each other. "I . . . guess," Jane said, knowing that there was no way she could talk Darcy out of this crazy idea now. "Where were you planning on going?"

"It's a surprise! So can we go or what?"

Jane looked up at Thor, who was scowling. "I do not like this idea of yours, Lady Darcy. We could get lost too easily."

"I know exactly where we're going! Don't worry about a thing, sweet cheeks! Go get dressed and I'll meet you down in the lobby!" She jumped up and headed for her suite of rooms.

"Sweet cheeks?" Thor stared after her, wondering what the term meant.

"I suppose I have to go along on this shopping trip," Loki sighed. "Please tell me we're walking."

"I'll drive," said Jane, getting up to go and get dressed herself.

"A word, please, my love." Thor caught up with her in the hall and walked with her back to her room. Loki could hear their voices, but not the actual words.

Great. They were going by car, which meant that his stolen Pop Tarts would soon be decorating the side of the road somewhere. Too bad none of the doors on this floor locked from the inside.

"Dad." Nathan had noticed the god's plight, and was looking up at his father as if to remind him of something. "You were gonna give him something?"

"Oh, that's right! Wait here, I'll be right back." He left the room, heading for the elevator.

"I wanna go ice skating," Nathan said. "I went once last year with Riley and Sasha, and I fell a lot but it didn't hurt that much. And I'll do better this year. Can we go skating? Can we?"

"Well, I don't know," Tony drawled. "We can't go to Rockefeller Center, can we? Too many people. Too bad we don't know someone who owns a private ice rink . . . oh, wait a minute, we do. Me."

Nathan's brown eyes went wide. "You **own **an ice-skating rink?"

"It's a couple of miles from here. I rent it out to the local high school and college hockey teams for their practice time, but I don't think there's any practices today. It's all ours. Snack bar included."

"Wow! Wait, do they have skates to fit me?"

"What size do you take?"

"Fourteen. They had one at the place Riley and Sasha and I went to, but they said it's a hard size to find, and not every place has it."

"I'll just have to call them, then, and make sure they have men's skates in a size fourteen. We'll make it a family day—wait till they're back from their shopping trip. That okay with you?"

That was more than okay with Nathan. He let out a whoop of joy that could be heard as far away as the sixty-ninth floor.

"Here we go." When Bruce came back, he had a prescription bottle in his hand. "I meant to give you this the other day, but . . . stuff happened."

"Yes," said Loki. "I've noticed that 'stuff' seems to happen a lot around here." He had gotten dressed in the meantime, in a green plaid shirt he had stolen from Thor, and dark-wash jeans. "What is it?"

"Something just a bit stronger than Dramamine. Try it and see if it works. I do have one grade higher if you need it. That's real heavy-duty stuff, though, and I don't want to have to put you on it if I don't have to."

Loki took the bottle, peering at the label as if he could understand any of the medical gibberish. "Thank you for your concern, Doctor."

"No problem. I grew up with the same thing, only my dad had no patience for my condition. Every time he had to stop, he'd yell, 'Jesus Christ, not again! Why do I have such a . . .'" He broke off suddenly, as he realized that Nathan was listening intently. "Well, he didn't like it. He was ashamed of me for being so weak. At least everyone here's been cool about it."

"They have, haven't they?" Loki nodded and pocketed the medication.

"You might want to take one of those now. They take a little while to start working."

"If you say so." He swallowed one of the pills with the remainder of his glass of juice. "Ugh. Tastes like chalk."

"It's medicine," said Nathan. "It's not supposed to taste good."

"I hope it works." Loki looked down at himself, closed his eyes . . . and nothing happened. "I hate being powerless."

"What were you trying to do?" Bruce asked him.

"Change my clothes. I've decided that this doesn't suit me."

"Yeah, you're not really the outdoorsy type," said Tony. "I have just the thing for you." He disappeared briefly and came back with a folded pile of green cloth. "Try this. I think it's your size."

Loki eyed the garment warily. "You are . . . giving me a shirt?"

"Merry Christmas. I do nice things once in a while. Besides, it's not my style. Go on, try it."

"Very well." The god removed the plaid shirt, tossed it aside, and pulled the new shirt over his head. When he tugged it into place, the others started laughing.

"What? What is it? I don't-" Then he got a good look at himself. The shirt had the words "I (heart)" above a huge picture of the Hulk .

"Very funny, Stark!"

"I thought so."

"I should have known you were up to something!" He yanked the offensive shirt off, and put the plaid one on again. "This will have to do, for now." And then he stomped off.

"Hey!" Tony called after him. "While you're out, why don't you buy yourself a sense of humor?"


	8. Christmas Eve, part 2

Everything was ready.

The presents were all wrapped and under the tree. All the decorations were up. Dinner was ordered for tomorrow, and should be arriving about noon. Tonight, they would order in, sit by the fire, and enjoy each other's company.

She had no more meetings until Thursday morning, not even a phone conference. Pepper stood back and looked at all the Christmas finery, and felt a sense of accomplishment, although she'd had little part in the decorating. Everything was done.

And this afternoon, they would go ice skating and maybe if they were lucky, it would snow. The forecast had said a **chance **of snow, but it changed from minute to minute. You just never knew. Wouldn't it be nice, to have snow on Christmas Eve? It wasn't as if they were going anywhere.

Nathan was watching iCarly and eating a Pop Tart. "I asked," he said, when he saw her looking. "They're buying more. There's like no breakfast foods left."

"We can have a nice Christmas breakfast," Pepper said. "Want to make scrambled eggs?"

The boy's face lit up before he remembered something. "We don't have any eggs."

"We can go get some. We'll go to the store and get everything we need."

"Really?"

She nodded. "Go get your shoes on. And don't forget your inducer."

"Right!" He ran to his room and grabbed both. "Dad! Dad!"

There was no answer.

"Mr. Jarvis, where's my dad?"

"Dr. Banner is in Laboratory B, two levels down," the AI told him.

"Could you please tell him that I'm going shopping with Miss Potts?"

"The message will be relayed."

"Thank you!" He shoved his feet into the sneakers, which closed with Velcro instead of laces. Someone with hands his size, Pepper reflected, must have trouble tying a knot.

"Are you ready?" she asked him.

"Yeah! Let's go!" He practically ran out the door ahead of her.

Bruce was just setting up an experiment in his lab when the message came in.

"Doctor Banner," said JARVIS, "the young man wishes me to tell you that he is going shopping with Miss Potts."

"Oh, okay." Then the implications hit him. **"What?"**

He ran to the window and looked out, but couldn't see them. "How long ago did they leave?"

"Four point six one minutes ago."

"Dammit!" Where was that list? Tony kept a list of all the cell phone numbers around here somewhere.

"Would you like me to connect you with Miss Potts' cell phone, sir?"

He stared up at the ceiling. "You can do that?"

"Certainly. One moment, please." There was the sound of dialing, and then the ringing of a phone. He hoped she wasn't driving, that she was in a place where she could pick it up—

"Hello?"

"Pepper?"

"Bruce? What's up?"

"I understand you guys are going shopping."

"Well, we're still in the parking garage right now. Nathan insists on taking the Hummer, and I'm not sure if I have the keys for it—oh, here they are."

"Is it okay if I come with you? I could use a break."

"Oh, sure. Nathan," she called out, "do you mind if your dad comes shopping with us?"

There was some answer, but it was so far away that he couldn't hear it.

"He says it's fine."

"Okay, I'll be right down. See you in a few."

He put everything away in what he hoped were the right places, and then grabbed his wallet before heading to the elevator.

* * *

"Can we go home now?" Loki grumbled.

Darcy looked at him. "But we just got here! We haven't even looked at anything yet!"

"I do not wish to look at anything. Especially not in this part of the store!"

"Aw, I think you'd look nice in this!" She plopped a bright green headband on his head, and he glared at her.

"I think not."

"Come on, we need to get you some new clothes. Cause the plaid? So not you."

Loki looked at Thor, who seemed to be enjoying this. "Brother, help me!"

"But you do need suitable attire. How long were you planning on borrowing my clothes?"

"You knew about that?"

"I don't mind. All you had to do was ask. But Darcy is right: plaid does not suit you. Let us find something that does."

"I really have no need of-" Loki protested, but they wouldn't hear of it. Darcy grabbed shirts off the racks, some in green, some dark blue or black.

"What size are you, honey?" she asked him.

"Size?" He didn't understand. He'd always had his attire custom-made; this nonsense of size confused and annoyed him.

"About a medium, would you say?" she asked Jane.

"Hmmm. Maybe a large, just to be safe."

"Good point." She checked the sizes on what she'd picked out already, put the mediums back, and grabbed another two or three in the larger size. "What about pants?"

"I have no idea. You're on your own there. We'll be in Electronics when you're ready." She and Thor walked away, and Loki wanted to call out to them to stay and not leave him at the mercy of this demented female. Who was now . . . was she patting his behind?

"Stop that!" he ordered her.

"I'd say about a thirty-four?" She took a pair of black slacks off the rack.

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Just go try these on. You have jeans and stuff, but you need nice clothes. In case we go out somewhere. Dress shirts, dress shirts . . . ah! Here we go. What are you, sixteen? Seventeen?"

"I don't-"

And then she put her hands around his neck, as if throttling him! "Yeah, about a sixteen. Try these, too." She thrust a packaged shirt in white and another in light blue into his arms, on top of all the other things she insisted he try on. "We'll worry about ties after I see you in these. Fitting room's over there." She pointed helpfully. "I'll be right there. I want to see everything on you."

"At once? Won't that be a little . . . warm?"

She laughed at that. She had a warm, genuine laugh that, on spite of himself, he enjoyed hearing. "No! One shirt at a time! I'll be there in a minute. Go on!" She actually gave him a push toward what she had called a fitting room, and he nearly stumbled but caught himself in time.

The older woman sitting behind a sort of desk came around to meet him. "How many, dear?"

"I have no idea. She just handed me all this and told me to go try it on."

"Well, let me see. I'll help you count them." She hung them on a hook beside her desk, and counted each piece. "Nine. Here you go," she said, handing him a plastic card with the number 9 on it.

"What do I do with this?" He stared down at it as if the secrets of the universe were contained in its bright yellow plastic surface.

"Just hold onto it for now," the woman said. "You can give it to me when you come out."

"Out?"

She chuckled. "You don't go shopping much, do you?"

"No, I can't say that I do."

"Right in here." She opened the door to a little room the size of a closet. "Your wife can wait for you out here."

"Wife?"

"Girlfriend?"

"She is my. . ." What was the Darcy creature to him? An annoyance, mostly. "It's complicated."

"Well, whatever," the woman said. "I'll let her know where you are when she gets here." Then she closed the door and left him alone in that tiny room. Not that he was afraid of small spaces. Never. My, it was warm in here, wasn't it? Maybe he should leave the door open a bit, just for some air . . .

Just as he was about to slide the door open a crack, there was a horrendous banging. "Are you in there?"

He jumped back a bit. "Yes, I am!"

"Did you try anything on yet?"

"I was about to."

"Try on the pants first, with, um, the blue dress shirt. Then come out, so I can see you."

"Why do you need to see it?"

"I don't hear you getting changed!" she called, as if his jeans and shirt would make a lot of noise when they hit the floor.

"Do you want to come in here?"

"What? No! I can't come in while you're getting dressed!"

"Why not?" he asked, though he knew perfectly well why not.

"I just can't, okay? Now put those on and come out here!"

"Fine." He began by removing his own clothes, or at least the clothes he was currently wearing. Why did Thor even own a shirt in this shade of green? It was not his color at all. Perhaps the mortal woman had given it to him. He cast it aside and unzipped the jeans, which he had stolen from Tony Stark's extensive wardrobe. Now there was someone with style. These, he would keep. He folded them neatly and set them aside for the moment.

He had a bit of trouble opening the package that the dress shirt came in. Trying to be careful got him nowhere; he finally just ripped it open, scattering pins and plastic attachers everywhere. Oh, well, it would give the woman at the desk something to do after he was gone.

When he had the shirt all buttoned, he slipped the black dress slacks up over his hips. They were a bit snug, but not uncomfortable. He was able to zip and button them easily.

"Are you done yet?"

"One minute!" he called out.

"Hurry up, I want to see how they look!"

"They look fine," he said.

"Let me see! Come on out of there!"

"All right!" He opened the door and stepped out, certain that a crowd had gathered, drawn by Darcy's caterwauling.

There was no crowd. Even the woman behind the desk was off to the side, straightening racks. Just Darcy, standing there with her arms crossed.

"Well?" he said. "Do I pass inspection?"

"You look great," she said, smiling. "How do they feel?"

"Is the collar supposed to be this tight?"

""Is it too tight? I can go back and get you the seventeen, if you want."

"That would be agreeable."

"What about the pants? Do the pants fit okay?"

"They're fine."

"Okay. Give me the two dress shirts, and I'll take them back and get you a seventeen. Try one of the other shirts on with those pants. I'll be right back."

"Whatever you say." He took off the blue shirt, put it together with all the packaging, and handed it through the door along with the other, unopened, shirt. He couldn't help noticing that when he passed them to Darcy, she tried to get a look at him shirtless. Not happening, as they said here. He withdrew into the little room again and shut the door.

He looked at the shirts she had chosen for him. Of the six of them, he liked the dark blue one the best. It had a collar and three buttons down the front, and looked like something that could be worn for a casual afternoon, or an evening out. He removed it from the hanger and slipped it over his head. Unlike the dress shirt, this one didn't need to be tucked in.

There was a knock. "Come on out and let me see."

"Why do you have to see? Do you have no faith in my ability to choose my own clothes? Can I not decide for myself if something looks good on me?"

"Just get out here already!"

Clearly she wasn't going away until she saw him in his new clothes. He opened the door slowly and stepped out just far enough for her to see him.

"Come here! Let me see!"

"You can see me from there, can't you?"

"Oh, you're impossible to shop with!" She went up to him and took a good look at him. "Turn around."

"Why?"

"I want to see how the pants fit."

"They fit fine."

"I need to **see.**" And she reached out and yanked on the waistband.

This was too much. Who did she think she was? She had no right to be manhandling him this way! "Kindly take your hands off me!" he snapped.

"I wasn't touching you!"

"You were too close for comfort! Back away!"

She took one step back and crossed her arms. "I don't know who you think you are, pal, but you might want to be nicer to someone who's buying you stuff. A thank you might be nice."

"Who said you were buying these?"

"Do you have any money?"

"Well . . . no." This was not entirely true; he had five dollars that he had stolen from an otherwise empty cup sitting on the sidewalk with no apparent owner. It wasn't his fault that the homeless man who had put the cup out had wandered away from it. By the time the man noticed that the money was missing, Loki had been too far away to stop and bring it back. It was his by default.

But five dollars would not buy this amount of clothing, not even one shirt. And until he found a way to get some money of his own, he was dependent upon others for his very survival.

"You went and bought a Christmas tree, just because I said I wanted one," she said, her voice softer. "I figured I owed you."

"I didn't pay for the tree."

"Doesn't matter. It's the thought that counts. I like that shirt. And the pants look fabulous on you."

"Fabulous?" She thought he looked fabulous?

"Here's the dress shirts. Go try them on, and the other shirts. I want to see them all."

"You do know this place closes at six."

"It won't take that long. Go on."

She really thought he looked fabulous? No one had ever told him he looked fabulous before. "All right," he said, and went back into the little room.

* * *

It was only a little corner market a few streets away, but to Nathan, it was the best place in the world. It had everything!

"Look, Dad!" he said, running back to Bruce for the fourth time in ten minutes. "Is that Japanese?"

"I think so."

"What's it mean?"

"I don't know. I can't read Japanese."

"Can we buy it?"

"Do you know what it is?"

"Um . . . no."

"Let's stick to our list, shall we? So far we've got eggs, cereal, bacon, and orange juice. What's next?"

Nathan looked over the shopping list that they had drawn up in the Hummer. "Napkins?"

"Go see if you can find any."

"Okay!" He took off running, much too fast.

"Slow down! There's a lot of stuff in here, and you don't want to—"

Suddenly, Nathan took a corner too fast, and went flying into a display of nacho chips. He knocked it onto the floor with a clatter and a crash.

Bruce came running to see if he was all right. So did the owner of the store.

"I'm sorry about this," Bruce said. "He's excited. It's Christmas. I'll pay for any damages."

"It looks okay," the man said. Together the two of them were able to set the rack upright and fill it again. "See? No harm done."

"I'm sorry," Nathan said. "I'll be more careful."

"That's okay," the store owner said. "Maybe you should keep to the bigger aisles for now. And slow down!"

"I will." The boy started toward the front of the store, and then remembered something and came back. "Oh, where are your napkins?"

* * *

Loki was on his way to the front of the store, purchases in his hands, when he saw it.

_Oh, no, no, no . . ._

He found a store employee a few aisles over and called out to her, "I need you, please!"

"Certainly, sir." She followed him back to the spot. "What's the problem?"

"Don't you see it?"

"See what?"

"The mirrors! You can't have two mirrors facing each other! That's very dangerous!"

"I'm sorry, I don't understand."

"Do you know what happens to someone caught between two mirrors?" He was trying to look at them without looking into them, which could be done by someone who knew how.

"No. What?"

"What's going on?" The others had come to see what was holding him up. "Are you coming or what?" Darcy asked.

"Who put these mirrors here?" Thor demanded.

"I'm sorry," said the store clerk. "I don't understand what the problem is."

"Never, ever put two mirrors directly facing each other! A person caught between them will lose his soul! It is very, very dark magic. Everyone knows that."

"Well, um . . . thank you. I'll bring that up to management right away."

"Thank you." Loki smiled what he considered his most ingratiating smile, not knowing that it further convinced the poor store employee that he was completely unhinged. "Let's go."

"I still haven't shown you my surprise yet!" Darcy cried out. "It'll be our last stop, I promise. I don't want to miss the skating."

"What is this surprise?" Jane asked. "How far is it?"

"I'll show you. Oh, you'll love this! Come on, hon," she said to Loki, "bring your stuff. We'll pay, and then we'll go see the surprise, okay?"

"I . . . guess." He had no idea what was going on, but she seemed to want his company, so he went with her to the counter to pay. He had narrowed it down to the black slacks, blue dress shirt, and the dark blue and dark green casual shirts. That was enough of a wardrobe to last for a while.

They paid, they left, they got in the car, and they drove to a place a few blocks away.

"I got an e-mail about this," Darcy said. "This is **the **premiere outfitter for role playing and Renaissance Fairs and stuff. But what I want to show you is in the weapons section."

"They have weapons here?" Thor asked.

"Yeah. Real ones. Swords and bows and daggers and things like that. That's not what I want to show you. It's back here."

She led them to the back of the shop, a journey of several minutes due to the sheer size of the place. Loki couldn't stop looking at all the fine clothing around him. Now this was style! He had no idea there was a place like this in all of Midgard. More than anything, he wished for some money of his own, so that he could come back to this place and have a proper look around.

"There it is!" Darcy pointed up to a wall of armaments. It was easy to see what she meant. But just in case they weren't sure, she added, "It's Meow-meow!"

Thor smiled at her mispronunciation of his weapon's name. "Yes, it is. A fine replica, indeed."

"That's our most popular piece," said a voice behind them. "They send us four a week, and we still can't keep up with the demand."

They turned to see a woman, presumably a store employee, costumed in a flowing gown and headpiece, pointing up to the hammer mounted halfway up the wall.

"It's . . . magnificent," Thor told her.

She was peering at him curiously. "You know, you look just like him."

"I have been told that before," he said, with a smile.

"If you want it, I can give you a discount."

"I have one, thank you. You have many lovely things here."

"Do you role-play a lot?"

"I suppose so."

"We have some costumes over here that would look wonderful on you, if you're interested—"

"Thank you, but we don't have the time today. Perhaps another time."

"I look forward to your business."

Meanwhile, Loki was examining a row of small bottles labeled "Potion Ingredients," though he suspected they were empty and just for show. At least the things in this shop were familiar to him, though he knew they were just replicas of the things he knew. He spotted a twin of his own helmet and approached to examine it more closely.

"That's on special right now," the woman told him. "Half price."

He glared at her. "Why?"

"No one wants it. But someone has to be the villain."

"No one wants this? But . . ." He couldn't say more without giving himself away. "Never mind."

"Yeah, I didn't think you'd want it either. You're more the hero type, I think."

He turned back to her. "Hero?"

"Yes. You have the build for it. What sort of character are you, in your role play?"

"Um . . ." He didn't quite know how to answer that. "A mage. A powerful one."

"How are you set for spell books?"

"I . . . lost all of mine." Were there really such things here?

"Let me show you what we've got."

"Oh, no, not today. I . . . don't wish to trouble you."

"It's no trouble! Come with me." She led him to the section of the shop which had magical supplies and books, and it was extensive. Even though Loki knew these were not real, he was impressed.

"How much?" he asked.

"Prices are marked on them. I know they're kind of expensive, but unlike the Internet, you can see it here before you buy it. And we have a thirty-day money back guarantee. If they're not what you're looking for, you can bring them back, no questions asked."

"Oh." That was helpful. "Thank you." He doubted very much that any of the spells in these books worked, but if he had them around him, he might feel more at home in his new room, the room of his own that Stark had assured him would be ready for him this evening. "I'll take these two."

"Excellent. I'll ring you up over here."

Now was the moment of truth, when he should tell her that he didn't have any money and couldn't pay for these. But the words wouldn't leave his lips. Why was it so hard for him to tell the truth?

"Excuse me just a moment," he said, trying not to look overly embarrassed. He left the counter and went to find Thor.

"I need you," he said.

"Need me? What for?"

"To, um, to pay for something."

"Something you need?"

"Well . . . yes. I need some new spell books, to replace the ones I . . . left behind."

"I see. We have moved recently," Thor explained to the woman behind the counter. "We were not able to bring everything with us."

"Oh, really? Where did you move here from?"

"England," Loki said.

"I have family in England! Whereabouts?"

"Brother, go and wait in the car," Thor told him.

"What? Why can't I stay here?"

"Escort the ladies back to the car and wait for me there. It is essential to the surprise."

"Oh, the surprise." What surprise was this? He wanted to ask, but Thor gave him a look as if to suggest that he wasn't moving or saying another word until Loki was outside. Reluctantly, he turned away, found the ladies admiring a dress in another part of the store, and relayed his instructions.

"Wait in the car?" Darcy looked dismayed. "But there's so much to look at here!"

"We can come back another time. I saw several things I want to see as well, but it will have to wait."

They left the store and went out to where Jane had parked the borrowed SUV. The two women were in the front, and Loki took the seat behind the driver's seat, rolling the window down and leaning out to breathe in some fresh air before they started rolling.

Presently Thor came out, carrying a bag that was much too large for two books. He opened the right rear door, slid in, and handed the bag to his brother. "Your surprise."

Confused, Loki opened the bag. Inside, he found . . . the imitation Mjolnir that they had been admiring earlier.

"You bought this . . . for me?"

"I know you have always wanted it, even when we were children. And now you have your own."

He wanted to say something cutting, something about how he didn't need his brother's pity, but he couldn't. And he was not crying. No, definitely not. The tears in his eyes were caused by the cold wind stinging his face. That was all. Not any sort of emotion at all, because he had stopped feeling anything long ago.

"Thank you," he said, his voice barely more than a whisper.

"Think nothing of it, brother! We shall have to see about getting you an account of your own. I will speak to Director Fury, when we return home."

"He will never allow it."

"Then I will find some other way. You must have some money of your own. Prove you are responsible in this matter, and we will trust you in other things."

"I have to prove my worth, like a child?"

"Would you rather be in a cell? At least we allow you some small amount of freedom, brother. Do not abuse it."

"Why are you doing this?"

Thor looked at him in surprise. "Do you wish me not to do this?"

"Why is everyone being so nice to me? I have done nothing to deserve such . . . solicitousness."

"Are you saying you don't want us to be nice to you?" Darcy asked.

"No, I . . . I don't know. I feel like you expect something from me."

"Sometimes people do nice things just for the sake of being nice," said Jane, never taking her eyes off the road. "You just have to accept it and not look for an ulterior motive."

"No one does something for nothing. What do you want from me?"

"Well, seeing you with your shirt off did it for me," Darcy said. "I thought you'd be all pasty and scrawny and stuff, but damn! You've got a pretty impressive set of pecs on you, bud!"

"Pecs?" He had no idea what she was talking about.

"Pecs? Pectoral muscles? Your chest muscles. Do you work out?"

Loki thought of his twice-weekly sparring sessions with Thor. He had always thought of them as being for his brother's benefit, but now he could see that he had been training right along with Thor. He just didn't rely on his . . . what had she called them? Pecs? He had never relied on them to get him out of trouble.

"You are stronger than you think you are," Thor told him.

"What makes you say that?"

"For one thing, the fact that this vehicle has been in motion for several minutes, and yet you show no sign of discomfort or illness."

"What?" Yes, they were moving. He knew that, but . . . come to think of it, his stomach felt perfectly fine. Not a twinge of nausea bothered him.

He reached into his jacket pocket and took out the small bottle of pills Dr. Banner had given him. So they weren't poison after all. Or as useless as the previous medicine. This had actually done him some good.

"Huh," he said. He tried to remember if he'd felt sick at all on the ride down. Maybe a little, but it had passed once he was out of the car and in the fresh air. And now he was fine. Impressive stuff, this.

He didn't like being in debt to people. But this made three who had done him a favor, and he couldn't help but wonder when they would expect that favor to be repaid. And what they would ask of him.


	9. Christmas Eve, part 3

_(A/N: This is probably the longest chapter, even after I edited it down. Hope you like it!)_

Everyone was back at the penthouse no later than noon. There was pizza waiting for them.

"What's that?" Nathan asked, seeing Loki come through the door with the faux-Mjolnir in his hand.

"Thor bought it for me."

"So that we can spar together!" the thunder god proclaimed. "Just like the old days!"

"It looks so real!" Nathan had only seen the real one in pictures; Mr. Thor kept it in the munitions locker downstairs, when he wasn't using it. "Can I hold it?"

"I don't know," Loki said. "Do you think you're worthy?"

"Do I have to be?"

"I think," Nathan's dad said, "you're very worthy. Just be careful not to hit anyone or anything. Stand in the center of the room here." He moved over to a spot away from the furniture, and Nathan followed him.

"Let us see, then, how worthy you are." And Loki handed over his new toy without a second thought.

Nathan took it as if it were a holy relic, which to some people, it was. "Wow, it's heavy! It's not like the plastic ones at the toy store!" He swished it around a few times, trying to be careful not to drop it. "Where did you get this?"

"LARP supply shop," Darcy explained. "This guy I'm on a message board with e-mailed me about it. It's a really cool place."

"Larp?" Nathan's scaly brow wrinkled.

"Live action role play. People who do reenactments and Ren fairs and stuff like that. They pay so much attention to detail, you wouldn't believe it. We have to go back there soon. But I think they're closed until Thursday. Thursday? Friday? We can call them; I have their number here."

"Wow, I'd love to go," Nathan said. He lowered the replica hammer and handed it back to Loki. "Thanks. You can put it away now."

"Why?"

"Aren't you coming skating with us?"

He had forgotten all about the skating. "I suppose so. I don't have a choice, do I?"

"Go put your new clothes away, too," Darcy said. "You won't need them till tomorrow. What you have on is fine."

"Are you sure you wouldn't rather see my pecs?"

She giggled at that. "Maybe later. When we're sitting all warm and cozy by the fire, maybe. You know, when you're not trying to kill everyone, you're actually kind of cute."

"Um . . . thank you?"

"I have your room set up for you," Tony said to him. "It's close to where you were, but not in the same suite. I think you'll like it."

"Well, all right." He did have to put his things away, after all. He followed the Man of Iron down the hall, descended a short flight of steps, and came around to what he thought was the opposite side of the building. There was a gold door with his name on it.

"This is your key card," Stark said, handing him a rectangle of plastic. "Slide it in the slot beside the door, like this." He slipped it into a black device, and a red light turned green. The door slid open on its own.

"Amazing." Loki took the opportunity to look around his new home. The furnishings were mostly green and gold, his signature colors. Most of what was in this main room was unfamiliar to him, though there was a TV.

"You have a TiVo, a DVR, and a Blu-Ray player," Stark said, as if Loki would understand what those things were. "Turn to Channel 1 for the On Demand library, which is pretty extensive. And I stocked a few movies I thought you'd like." He opened a door under the TV and showed the god a shelf full of movies on disc. "There's three full seasons of Spongebob there. Plus more on demand. So you won't get bored."

"You bought all this for me?"

"You don't own it. It's here for you to use while you're here, but if you leave, all this stuff stays. You don't get to take it with you."

"That's a bit cruel, don't you think?"

"If you leave here, princess, you're going into a cell. They don't let you bring a DVD player with you."

The man had a point. And he was allowing Loki free usage of the items as long as he was here. "All right, then."

They went into the bedroom. "Thor had someone bring some of your stuff from home. Put it wherever you like. The rooms are cleaned once a day, usually around ten in the morning. We'll be at training then. You're expected to be there, even if you don't participate."

"Who said I wouldn't take part?" Thor's comment about their sparring sessions had awakened in Loki the desire to test his physical fitness. Preferably against anyone but the green beast.

"Bathroom's in here. You've got a shower stall, Jacuzzi tub, vanity, storage space . . . towels are changed once a week. Just put them in the white bucket, and the cleaners will take care of it."

There was even a small kitchenette. "You have your own supply of Pop Tarts," Stark said, "so stop stealing your brother's."

"Yes, Mother."

"I'm serious. You cause trouble, and you're out on your ass. This is my house, and as long as you're here, you follow my rules. Trust isn't something that's given automatically; you have to earn it. You think you can do that?"

Loki nodded solemnly. "I will if you let me."

"Okay, then. I'll give you a few minutes to put your things away, and then I'll see you upstairs."

"Oh?"

"You're coming skating with us, aren't you?"

"I wasn't sure if I was invited."

"Of course you're invited. You live here now, don't you? You think we're gonna leave you here alone? That's not much fun."

"But I don't even know how to . . . skate."

"It's easy. One foot in front of the other. You can walk, right?"

"Of course I can walk."

"It's just like walking. I'll show you. Dress warmly."

"Why?"

"Why? Because it's an ice rink. They tend to keep them a bit on the cool side. You should be all right with that thick jacket of yours. What size shoe do you take?"

"I have no idea." He'd "borrowed" shoes from Thor, too. They were a little big on him, which probably meant that he needed at least one size smaller.

"Well, we'll figure it out. See you in ten minutes." Stark went out the way they had come, through the sitting room.

All right, ten minutes. What could he do in ten minutes? Loki began by taking a good look at the pile of his belongings that had been (apparently) shipped from Asgard. There were some of his books, although no spell books, though that shouldn't have made a difference since he didn't have access to his magic anyway. There were things he'd held onto from childhood, that meant nothing to him now. Then there was the family portrait.

It had been painted when he was about eight years old, which meant that Thor was ten, almost eleven. The proud father sat in the center of the frame, Mother behind him, her hand on his right shoulder. The boys were in front, on either side, Thor to his father's right and Loki on the left. It was a happy scene in the life of a happy family that had been a lie from the very beginning.

Why had they never told him the truth? Why had they pretended that he was one of them, when he had never been?

"All I ever wanted," he said out loud, "was for that man—" He could not bring himself to call Odin his father "—to love me, to accept me, to tell me he was proud of me for something."

"He did love you."

The god whirled around and found his brother standing there. "How did you get in here?" he demanded.

"Friend Stark let me in. He was just leaving as I arrived."

"And how long were you standing there before you spoke to me?"

"Only a few minutes. I see your belongings arrived."

"Some of them."

"I thought you would appreciate having your own things around you. I have always liked this portrait," he said, stepping closer to it.

"You would."

"Is the other one here as well?"

"Other one? What other one?" There was no other family portrait. They had been planning to sit for another, until it all went wrong.

"The one of the two of us. I specifically ordered that it be sent here. Did it not arrive?"

"I'm not sure. I haven't looked through everything yet."

"I could help you."

"We don't want to be late for the skating."

"Quite right! Come along, then. We will sort all this when we return." Thor took him by the arm, a bit more firmly than Loki would have liked, and together they went upstairs to meet the others.

* * *

The ice rink was a few miles away, by car. They took the same two vehicles they had taken to the mall. Nathan was so excited he was practically bouncing in his seat, but Loki felt not a single flutter in his stomach. These pills were really something. He had to remember to thank the doctor for his assistance.

It seemed like only minutes before they pulled into the parking lot outside a long, low building that gave absolutely no clue from the outside as to what could be expected within. It could have been a warehouse, an office suite, or even a low-scale shopping mall. It wasn't until they got through the door that Loki saw what they had come for.

It was a massive sheet of ice, as big as a city block, enclosed by a wall about five feet high, with a plexiglass barrier above it adding another two feet. There were lines and markings on the ice, but he had no idea what they meant.

Ice. Okay. He could manage ice.

"Skates are over here," Stark told them, indicating a sort of supply closet full of . . . at first glance, Loki wasn't sure what they were supposed to be. Boots with metal on the bottom?

"Okay, find your size here. They should be lined up in order. The manager told me that he pulled out some of the sizes I asked for—and yes, they do have a size fourteen, Nate—but if you don't know your size, just try them on till one fits. Leave them on the counter here to be cleaned when you're done."

With that, the group swarmed over the . . . skates? . . . and chose the appropriate size. Loki just stood there, not knowing what to do.

"What's the matter?" Darcy asked him.

"I don't know my size."

"Well, they're the same as shoe sizes. What size are those shoes you're wearing?"

"These aren't mine. I just borrowed them. I lost the other ones I had."

"Damn. Shoulda got you shoes, too, but I didn't think of it. Take one off and let me see."

"Take it off?"

"Come over here." She led him to a wooden bench on the side and began undoing his shoelaces. "It should be inside somewhere. Let me see." She closed her hands around the shoe and pulled.

"Ow! Why are you trying to pull my foot off?"

"I'm not! This is tied really tight! We'll have to loosen it to get it off."

"Loosen them how?" He didn't want to admit that the reason he'd tied them so tight was so that they wouldn't fall off.

"Let me see it. I can do this." She pulled up on the laces to loosen them, inadvertently tightening them in the process.

"OW! What are you doing, woman? That hurts!"

"Hold still!"

"I'm trying! I do need both my feet, you know!"

"Hang on, I think I got it!" With one mighty yank, she pulled the shoe free, sending her stumbling back a couple of steps. Loki bent and flexed his foot a few times to make sure it still worked.

"Okay, can you see a size in here? Cause I can't."

"Give it to me."

"Don't order me around! I'm trying to help you here!"

"By taking my foot off?"

"What is going on here?" Just what he needed, the overprotective older brother butting in. Thor had his own skates on already and was wobbling a little as he stood there.

"I was just trying to get a look at the size!"

"By taking off the shoe with my foot still in it!" Loki protested.

"Be silent, both of you!" Thor took a look at the shoe in question. "Is this not one of mine?"

"I borrowed it because I couldn't find mine."

"Since when do my shoes fit you?"

"Since he tied them so tight it was cutting off his circulation," said Darcy.

"I wondered to what realm these had disappeared."

"You want them back? Now?"

"No, not now. As soon as you have some of your own. Ones that fit properly. I would not make you walk barefoot in this weather."

Darcy looked inside the shoe for the size. "Okay, these are thirteens—wow, Thor, you have big feet—so we should try an eleven or a twelve on you. Come with me."

And Loki was swept along in her wake, helpless to resist. She grabbed a pair of skates off the shelf and tried them on him. They were too big.

"We'll try the elevens, then," she said, putting the others on the counter. "Tell me if this hurts." She slipped one of them on his right foot and laced it up.

"That's a bit tight, isn't it?"

"It's supposed to be tight. Not too tight, but tight enough so that they support your ankles. You don't want to be wobbling all over the place out there."

"Yes, about that . . ."

"Don't worry, it's easy! I'll help you. It's all about balance. Let's get the other one on, and then I'll show you." She laced the other skate onto his left foot, and then helped him to stand.

"How does one balance on these tiny bits of metal?" he asked.

"Very carefully. Wait till we get on the ice, it'll be better. Give me a minute to put mine on." She went and got a pair of skates for herself. Hers were white instead of black, and much smaller than his. "I used to love skating. Wanted to be a professional figure skater, but it ended up being too much work. So I gave up. But I still like skating. You ready?" Somehow she had completely laced up both her skates while she was talking.

"Do I have to?"

"Everyone else is already out there," she said, gesturing. Indeed, the other Avengers were already gliding across the ice like they were flying. Even Nathan was managing to stay up on his skates. "I should probably warn you: you fall on your butt a lot when you're just learning. And that ice is **hard**. So don't hit your head, okay?"

"I'll try not to." The only consolation was the knowledge that Thor had almost certainly never done this either, and would fall just as much. At least Loki wouldn't be the only one looking ridiculous.

"Stick close to the wall until you get the hang of it," she said, leading him to the opening which led onto the ice. "Try not to lean too far forward or backward. Stay over your center of gravity."

"I am not sure I have one of those." He put one skate-clad foot onto the ice, and then the other. "This isn't so bad."

"You're not moving yet. Just slide your feet forward, one at a time. I'm here to catch you if you fall."

"You? Catch me?" She was half his size. He should be catching her. But she was the one who knew how to do this, and he was not.

"You're going to have to let go of the wall now."

"But you said to stay close."

"Yeah, but don't hug the wall for dear life. You'll just knock yourself off-balance. Just move away a little. There, that's good," she said, when he had moved out about six inches. He was still close enough so that he could reach out and grasp it if need be, but in no danger of banging into it.

"Now what?"

"Just keep moving forward. Try not to pick your feet up off the ice too much. Just glide along. Like sliding in your socks on the kitchen floor—you ever do that?"

"Can't say that I have."

"You should try it some time. It's fun."

"I fail to see the attraction."

"Never mind. Just keep moving. You're doing great."

And of course, the moment she said that, he slipped and fell backwards, landing on his rump with a jolt abrupt enough to make his teeth rattle. He sat there stunned for a moment before trying to get up. It was a lot harder than it looked. Between trying to balance on thin metal blades, and the slippery nature of the ice, he nearly fell again until Darcy reached down and helped him up.

"Maybe we should, you know, hold hands or something until you get the hang of it."

"Hold hands?"

"Yeah." She nodded to Thor and Jane, who were gliding along, arm in arm. "They seem to be doing okay."

"Yes, but they—"

"What? They what? Love each other? So what? We're not getting engaged or anything, hot stuff. I'm just trying to keep you from falling and hurting yourself. That okay with you?"

"Hot stuff?" This odd female was second only to Tony Stark in coming up with strange and embarrassing nicknames for him. "What, you don't like that?"

"There is nothing hot about me."

"Oh, I think you're very hot," she said, slipping her hand into his. "Smokin' hot."

"And this is a good thing?"

"Well, yeah."

Was he missing something here? "When you say I'm hot, what exactly do you mean?"

"You don't know what that means?"

"Not the way you seem to be using it."

"I just meant that you're . . . attractive. Good-looking. That I like the way you look."

"You . . . like me?" He stopped moving and, putting one hand on the wall to balance himself, stared at her. "You like to look at me?"

"Yeah. That's okay, isn't it? I mean . . . you don't mind, do you?"

"How did we get onto this subject again?" he asked her.

"I don't remember, but look at you! You're going all by yourself now! I'm not even near you, and you're staying up!"

"I am? I am!" He looked around in surprise, as if wondering how this had happened. "I guess this is easier than I-whoa!" He leaned too far forward and almost landed face-first on the ice, but she came around and helped hold him up.

"Yeah, it's easier if you don't think about it. It's okay, we can talk about something else. You know what we need? We need some music. Hey, where's the tunes?" she called out, to no one in particular.

A few minutes later, Tony left the ice and went to a little booth off to the side. "Can't believe I forgot the music," he said, his voice amplified by the speakers all around them. "This is a little something from everyone's playlists, so if you don't like what's playing, just wait a minute. And I just wanted to announce that the snack bar is open for your convenience. No cash necessary. Have fun, guys!"

The song that played was a bouncy dance number that Loki didn't particularly care for, but Darcy exclaimed, "Oh, I love this song! Don't you love this song?"

"Not really," he said, but she was already off. He set off after her, finding this motion easier already. _She was right; it does just take practice._ He didn't know why that thought pleased him, but it did.

* * *

"I could use a drink," Darcy said, heading for the exit from the ice. "Come with?"

"Now?"

"We could talk," she offered.

"I suppose." He followed her off the ice, to the snack bar.

"What do you want?" she asked him.

He shrugged. "Coffee?" Not his usual drink of choice, but if the boy could drink it, surely Loki could handle it.

"Okay. Want cream or sugar?"

"Do I?"

She smiled. "I'll bring you both, and you can decide. Go ahead and sit down. I'll bring it right over." With that, she went to the counter and ordered their respective drinks. Loki took a seat in one of the brightly colored booths, running a fingertip over the smooth tabletop. It was only when he realized he was drawing hearts over and over that he stopped and laid both hands in his lap.

_Clink._

A black mug with "Memorial Ice Rink" written in gold across it suddenly appeared in his field of vision. He blinked slowly, then realized that it was his coffee.

"They have real mugs here," Darcy said, as she sat down opposite him. "Isn't it great?"

"Do you have coffee as well?" he asked her.

"Oh, no. I don't drink coffee. This is hot chocolate. With real whipped cream. I brought you some cream and sugar. I don't know how much you take of either. You can sort it out for yourself."

There were three small plastic containers of cream, and several white, pink, yellow, and blue packets of sugar and sugar substitutes. What was the difference?

"Why the different colors?" he asked, after taking a proper taste of the coffee and determining that it needed **something **to counteract the bitter taste.

She picked them up one by one, beginning with the pink. "Sweet and Low," she said. The blue. "Equal." The yellow. "Splenda." And the white. "The real stuff. They all taste the same, but the first three have no calories. But you don't look like you have a problem with your weight, so feel free to use real sugar." She separated out the white packets and pushed them across to him.

"Very well." He tore open two of the packets and dumped the contents into his mug, stirring counter-clockwise. Then he lifted the spoon to his lips and tasted. No, not right yet. One more packet went into the swirling brew. Perhaps some of the cream?

He wasn't sure how to open the small container, but Darcy showed him how to lift up the paper covering the cup and pour it in without making a mess. When he stirred it in, it lightened the color from black to a warm brown . . . the color of her hair.

He took a sip. Perfect.

* * *

They went round and round, again and again, for hours, it seemed. Finally, Tony announced, "Time to pack it in, folks. Don't forget to leave your skates on the counter. Meet you at the back door."

"Guess we're done here," Darcy said, heading for the exit. Loki followed her, narrowly avoiding colliding with Thor and Jane.

"See?" the elder brother beamed at him. "It is easy, this ice skating!"

"How many times did you fall?" Loki asked, a twinkle in his eye.

"I did not keep count, I fear."

"Five or six," Jane said. "No big deal."

"That is not what you said when I pulled you down on top of me!"

"Don't suppose anybody got any pictures?" Darcy smirked.

The four of them sat down and began to take off their skates. For just a moment, it was as if the events of the past year had never happened, and there was nothing between them at all. It was a good day, the best he'd had in a long time, and as they all piled into the various cars to go home, Loki insisted on sitting next to Darcy. He liked having her comforting warmth next to him, taking the chill off his bones.

When they rounded a corner a little too fast and he found himself pressed up against her, he was glad that he had remembered to take his medication before leaving the arena. It would not have been good for him to throw up on her in the middle of their cuddle fest.

As they got out of the car, Thor asked him, "Did you want to put away your belongings now, or later?"

Loki shrugged. "Now is as good a time as any."

"Very well then. Show me to your rooms, and I will help you."

"All right." He led his brother to the suite of rooms that had been prepared for him this morning

Thor took a look around at the pile of stuff in the middle of the floor. "Where should we begin?"

"I have no idea. You really had all this sent here?"

"I did."

"When?"

"This morning."

"Before I even had a room of my own?"

"I knew you would. If not right away, we would find a place to put it until you did. And now you do. So where would you like to begin?"

"I suppose we should just start with what's closest, and work our way through from there."

"Very well." Thor started moving things from the top of the pile to the floor, where he sorted them by function. Loki bent down and looked at each item, deciding where to put them. Most were easy; the books went in the bookshelves, keepsakes went in the top drawer, and grooming items went in the bathroom. Some were not so easy to find homes for.

The portrait Thor had mentioned was in the middle of the pile, and when they got to it, Loki set it on the bed and looked at it.

They were teenagers in this one, gawky and long-limbed, and Loki had never liked this picture of himself. He looked angry, for some reason that he couldn't recall at the moment. But the golden child looked perfect, as always, even at such an awkward stage of development.

"I have always liked this picture of us," said Thor. "Where do you want to put it?"

Loki looked at him. "Your room," he said. "You can have it. I don't want it."

"Are you sure? We have no other pictures of—"

"I'm sure. Take it. You can have the family portrait, too, if you want."

Now Thor looked troubled. "Do you mean to erase every trace of our lives together? As if you could wash it away like waves on a beach? Why would you wish to do this?"

"Why should I keep a reminder of a family that isn't mine? Of the man who stole me from my true family—"

"We** are** your true family!" There was anguish in Thor's voice. "The day Father brought you home was the happiest day of my life. I finally had a little brother."

"You remember? You were a child."

"Old enough to carry you around in my arms all day long. Young enough not to care about where you had come from. You were simply there, and that was good enough for me."

Loki simply looked away.

This was too much for Thor, who grasped his brother's sharply pointed chin and turned his head until their eyes met. "Look me in the eye, brother, and tell me you have no feelings left for me. Not Father, or Mother, or all the rest of Asgard . . . for me and me alone. Tell me that the last few days have meant nothing to you. If you can look me in the eye and tell me that you do not love me, then I will believe it."

Loki locked gazes with him, but could not speak. The words just would not come. He, who had always lied so effortlessly, now found it impossible to speak the lie to his brother.

"That," Thor said, smiling, "is what I thought. I will take the family portrait to my room, but you keep this one. Let it remind you of happier times. For there were many, if you will but take the time to recall." He lifted the huge family portrait and set it aside. "Shall we continue?"

What had just happened? Loki blinked twice; this was unexpected. Oh, not that Thor still loved him. He knew that. What he hadn't thought possible was that he still loved Thor. Still thought of him as a brother, even though they were not brothers. A small place in his wounded heart could not let go of the one person who had never betrayed him.

"Well?" Thor was standing there with his hands on his hips. "There is still much to be sorted here, and not much time to do it. Tell me where to put everything, and I will."

"Never mind. I'll get it. You can go."

"What is wrong? Ki-ki?" The childhood nickname sounded odd coming from a grown man. "Tell me what is bothering you."

"All of this!" Loki exploded. He picked up random items and threw them across the room. "All of this, these remnants of another life that I wish to forget! Who am I? Where do I belong? I don't know!"

Thor crossed the distance between them and put his arms around his brother, pulling him close. Loki tried to pull away, but Thor only held him tighter. "Ssh, ssh. Think not of what has gone before. Only now. Be here with me, now, and know that I love you."

They stayed that way for several minutes, and Loki was **not **crying. No, he wasn't. This moisture in his eyes was nothing more than sweat. Or dust—the portraits had been dusty, and some of it must have fallen into his eyes, and that was why they were tearing up. Certainly not any kind of sentiment. Only children and weak women cried at a time like this. He was stronger than that.

After what seemed like forever, Thor finally released him. "This is your home now," he said, "and we are your family. Tonight we will sit by the fire together, and tomorrow we will feast. For now, I will leave you. Will you be able to finish this on your own?"

"Yes," he said, and sniffled a bit. "Thank you for your help."

"Any time, brother. I will come and fetch you for dinner. Be well."

_Don't leave me, _Loki wanted to say, but for once his silver tongue was silent. He could only stand there and watch as Thor let himself out of the suite.

Then he started gathering up his things and putting them where they belonged. He would have to find a place for the portrait. Now that he looked at it, it wasn't really that bad. His feelings had been colored by the memories of this difficult time of his life, when he had been struggling to find his place.

_Just like now._

He tried to put the memories out of his mind and found homes for all of his belongings, except for a few things which he had decided he didn't want anymore. Those he threw into a cardboard box to be discarded.

"It's too quiet in here," he said aloud.

"Would you like me to play some music for you, sir?"

The voice made him jump, but he reminded himself that it was only the tower guardian. "Yes, please, Sir Jarvis."

"Any particular selection you would like?"

He thought about it. "Play something from my brother's favorites."

"Very good, sir."

A moment later, the room filled with the voice of a human female singing about unrequited love. The song was catchy, and had a good beat, and in spite of himself, he started moving to the beat of the song. Nothing as undignified as dancing, of course. He was simply letting the music move him.

Before long, he had everything put away, and he was left with nothing to do.

"Is it seven yet?" he called out.

"The time now is six fifty-two," Sir Jarvis told him.

"Thank you. You can shut off the music now."

"Would you like to save a playlist under your own name, sir?"

He thought about it. "No," he decided. "Not yet. When I hear something that moves me, perhaps then, but not now. Thank you, good Sir Jarvis."

A moment later, there was a knock on his door. Right on time, as always. "Where did you put the—" he began, before opening the door all the way and seeing that the person standing there was not Thor.

It was Darcy.

"I didn't want to leave things the way they were," she explained. "I know this is kind of weird for you, and I understand. Are we a thing, or are we not a thing?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Do we or do we not have a relationship?"

"Would you like one?"

"Well, yeah, kind of, but . . . it's complicated. Let's un-complicate things." And she stood on her tiptoes and kissed him.

It felt nice. After a moment of stunned silence, he kissed her back. Yes, he could definitely do this forever. Or at least as much of forever as the universe would allow them.

When they broke apart, she said, "Okay. So. We're a thing."

"So we are."

"Ready for dinner now?"

"I guess so."

"Ooh, what's that?" She looked past him and saw the portrait sitting on the floor. He had left it there until such time as he could hang it in its spot of honor, over the bed. "Is that you and Thor? How old were you?"

"That's nothing. It isn't very good . . ."

"Oh, come on! You look cute! How old were you?"

He sighed. Obviously she was not about to let go of this. "I was twelve," he said. "Thor was just turning fifteen."

"I like the way you're holding hands. Side by side, not one in front of the other."

"His idea. He did not want me to feel . . . inferior. Even though I was."

"Oh, bull! Who told you that?"

"No one needed to. All I ever heard growing up was Thor this and Thor that. His exploits were legendary while he was still a child. Anything I did was merely a shadow of his greatness."

"I'm sure they didn't lie to you on purpose, they just didn't think it was important enough to tell you."

"The fact that I was born a monster was not important?" By now they were at the foot of the stairs. Tonight's meal would not be in the formal dining room, but instead would be served buffet-style in the main living area.

"Why do you think you're a monster?" she asked him. "I mean, besides the whole tried-to-destroy-New-York thing."

"Have you read any of the legends about us? What your people call mythology?"

"Well, yeah. Jane made me read some stuff. Hey, is it true you gave birth to an eight-legged horse?"

He eyed her dubiously. "Do I look like someone who has given birth to a horse?"

"The myths also say you're a shape-shifter."

"That is true."

"What about your other children?"

"I have children, yes, but I did not give birth to them. My wife did. Or should I say, ex-wife."

"Oh." She looked a bit disturbed by this news.

"We have not lived together for many centuries. I am free to pursue you, if you still want me."

"What were you trying to tell me, before I got you sidetracked?"

He sighed. "I grew up hearing stories of the frost giants and their monstrous cruelty. Thor wanted nothing more than to storm into Jotunheim and smash them all, one by one. Which he tried to do."

"Which is when you found out?"

He nodded. "Suddenly learning that my whole life had been a lie . . . it nearly destroyed me. It certainly destroyed any feelings that I had for the man I had called my father. How could he have done that, to an innocent child?"

"Have you talked to him at all?"

He stopped, just inside the door at the top of the stairs. "Why should I? I have no wish to hear his justifications for his actions. All I ever wanted was for him to tell me—just once!—that he loved me. To tell me that he was proud of me. For something, anything. But when last I saw him, the only emotion he showed me was disappointment. Even though this was all his fault to begin with!"

"Yeah, families suck, don't they?" She shook her head. At least you have someone on your side. Thor spoke up for you, didn't he?"

"Of course he did," Loki said. "He always does. No matter what I've done. Once when we were children, I broke one of Mother's favorite ornamental vases, and Thor said that he did it, because he knew that Fath—that Odin would not punish him as harshly. Sometimes it pays to be the favorite."

"What happened?"

"He was grounded for a week. Two days into it, I confessed that I had done it." He shrugged. "I was bored and missed my favorite playmate."

"So then what happened? Daddy Dearest nailed you to the wall?"

"Did he do what?"

"What did he do to punish you?" she clarified.

"Grounded for a week, and in addition, because I had lied to him, I had to do all of Thor's chores in addition to my own for that week. The strain nearly killed me."

"I'm sure," she said, smiling. "Oh, look, we're the first ones here." For the living room was completely empty, for possibly the first time ever. Loki had expected at least someone to be hanging out here, but it seemed that the others were late to the party.

Presently, though, the others began to drift in. First Tony and Bruce, up from the lab, with a chattering Nathan in tow; then Clint, Natasha, and Steve, from the training area; then Thor and Jane from their walk outside; and finally Pepper, in from some last-last-minute shopping. Once they were all assembled, the feast could begin.

It was a nice little informal family evening. So pleasant to have this time together, just to be in each other's company. It was just such a perfect moment, gathered together like this, that Tony felt like he was waiting for the other shoe to drop. Any moment now, the alert would come in, and they'd have to go fight alien monsters or killer robots or just some guy robbing a jewelry store (let Spider-Man handle that one . . . he needed some decent experience, anyway). As a result, he was determined to stay alert, and so he only had one drink.

Most people wouldn't have noticed, but Bruce had gotten to know him pretty well these last few months, and he took advantage of a quiet moment to ask him what was wrong.

"I'm just waiting for the call to action," he said. "Why should we have a nice normal Christmas, like normal people? Superheroes don't get time off, not even during the holidays."

"Maybe the super villains are taking time off, too. Let's just enjoy what we have here, and not spoil it. If something comes up, we'll deal with it. Meanwhile, it's Christmas Eve! JARVIS, can you put the Santa Tracker up on one of the screens?"

"Certainly, sir," the AI said. A screen appeared in mid-air and showed Saint Nick's flight path, which was currently over Europe.

"That's not real, is it?" Nathan asked. "I mean, Santa's not real."

Tony looked at him in mock-surprise and gasped. "Not real? How can you say that? Of course Santa's real! Isn't he, guys?"

No one had heard him; they were all too busy with their own conversations.

"Tell him, JARVIS. Santa's real."

"The Santa Tracker represents real-time data as recorded by NASA satellites, Master Nathan. According to current information, Santa should arrive over the New York metropolitan area by two-fifteen a. m. Would you like an alarm call for that time?"

The boy blinked. "No," he said. "He won't come if I'm awake. But thanks."

"You're very welcome."

"You know what this party needs?" Tony said. "Some decent music! JARVIS, play the Best of Christmas playlist, please."

"Certainly, sir."

A moment later, the sounds of modern Christmas music came through the speakers. As much as Tony liked the classics, he preferred stuff recorded sometime in the last fifty years. The current selection was particularly appropriate: Rob Thomas' _New York Christmas_. Right now, "peace on Earth" sounded like a good idea. If their luck would just hold for the next few hours . . .

Loki was sitting off by himself, reading a book he had found in the library down on the seventy-eighth floor. He didn't understand this Christmas that the others were so excited about, and he didn't feel much like celebrating tonight. Books had always been his friends. People . . . people mystified him. They either betrayed and hurt him, or they wanted more from him than he was prepared to give.

A shadow fell over the page. "Leave me alone," he said, without looking up to see who it was. It was a rather big shadow; that limited the choices somewhat. "Thor, just let me be. I don't want to be part of this party."

"Why not?" came a voice that definitely wasn't his brother.

He looked up. Nathan was looking down at him curiously. "What is it, child?"

"Why don't you want to come party with us? It's Christmas Eve!"

"That doesn't mean much where I come from. We have different feast days."

"So? You're here, now. Come be with us. At least have some punch."

"I am fine, thank you."

"Don't you like us, Mr. Loki?"

The question took him by surprise. "Why do you think I don't like you?"

"Cause you'd rather be sitting here by yourself than with the rest of us. Come on!" He reached down and started to pull the startled god to his feet. "Don't you want to?"

"It's not that I don't like you, or the others. I . . . I do not deserve their company."

"Why?"

He looked the child right in the eyes. Strange, those human eyes, in the middle of a snake-like face with a lion's mane, goat's horns, and a bear's paws. They were his father's eyes, too. And with that, Loki was reminded of the kindness shown to him by the doctor, among others.

And that only made it worse.

"Do you know anything of what I have done? Did your father tell you about what brought them together, these heroes?"

"You mean how downtown got broken? I saw it on TV. Some of it. You were there?"

"I was responsible for the situation. I opened the portal that brought hostile aliens into your world. I took control of the minds of good people and forced them to do my bidding. And I tried to destroy my own brother. All because I was jealous of him, of his position, and I wanted a realm of my own to rule."

He waited to see what the reaction to this confession would be. Nathan nodded solemnly and said, "But you're sorry, right?"

"I am now."

"Did you apologize?"

"To some, I did."

"You should do something to make up for what you did. Fix it, somehow."

"What would you have me do, child? Personally apologize to every man, woman, and child in New York?"

"No. Just do something good. When I break stuff, I either fix it or replace it."

"Most of what was damaged has already been repaired."

"Then do something else. Wanna help me make breakfast tomorrow?"

He narrowed his eyes. "And this will make up for my wrongs?"

"It's a start. You've done some good things already. You went and picked up the tree."

"I stole the tree."

"Mr. Stark paid for it. So you're good."

"I left when I wasn't supposed to."

"You came back. If you meant to run away, you wouldn't have come back."

The boy had a point there. Loki **had **returned—if only because he had nowhere else to go. But at the time, the thought of running away hadn't even occurred to him. "You're right," he said. "I did come back."

"You said you were sorry about the Pop Tarts, didn't you?"

"I don't believe I have, yet."

"Maybe you should go do that now. I'm sure he'll forgive you. I mean, he was pretty mad at the time, but he didn't stay mad long. So go tell him you're sorry you ate all his Pop Tarts."

"I didn't eat **all **the Pop Tarts."

"You shouldn't have had any without asking."

"It was a misunderstanding! I thought he wouldn't mind sharing!"

"Go make it right!" The boy yanked him up off the couch and gave him a shove toward where Thor stood in conversation with the Captain and the Lady Natasha. "Then come back, and we'll figure out the next thing."

He looked back over his shoulder. The boy was smiling—it looked so strange, but so encouraging—and he took that as a good sign. He went over to the group and stood by his brother's side.

"I would speak with you," he said.

Thor looked over at him. "You have joined us at last! I thought you would spend the entire evening alone! What is it you require?"

"I wanted to . . ." The words wouldn't come. He had always had trouble taking responsibility for his actions, even as a child. He turned back to Nathan, who was watching the interaction as if it were one of his television programs. "I wanted to tell you . . . I'm sorry I stole your Pop Tarts. I only wanted them because they were yours, and I thought you would not mind sharing."

"I would not have minded, if only you had come to me and asked." Thor beamed and clapped his younger brother on the shoulder, which nearly knocked him over. "All that I have is yours. You need only ask, and I will give it to you."

Steve cleared his throat. "Actually, um, I sort of had one of your Pop Tarts, too. I meant to tell you, but I forgot. I know I should have asked, but . . . I was starving, and they were right there, and—"

"I understand." Thor nodded. "Has anyone else here taken one of my Pop Tarts?" he asked the room in general.

No one had, or at least, no one would admit to it.

"Very well, then. I am happy to share my breakfast with anyone, should they but ask."

"I have my own now, actually," Loki began, but Thor had already moved on. The younger god sighed and went back to his book.

"Did you apologize?" Nathan, who was now sitting on the floor beside the couch, asked him.

"Yes, I did."

"And do you feel better now?"

He thought about it. "Yes, actually, I do. It is very . . . liberating."

"What's that mean?"

"It means that I like this feeling. I think I'll do it again." He spotted Barton across the room, by himself, and decided to approach him. "This may not go as well."

"It's okay. As long as you try."

"I will." He crossed the room quickly and cleared his throat, so as not to startle the volatile agent. "May I have a word with you, Agent Barton?"

The archer looked confused. "What's this about?"

"It has occurred to me that I was wrong to control your mind as I did. I never meant to harm you or Doctor Selvig. I hope that this can begin to make things right between us."

Barton nodded. "It's a start. Admitting you were wrong is the first step."

"And what is the second?"

"I'll get back to you on that. For now, just stay out of my way. I promise I won't try to kill you."

It was probably as good as he was likely to get, at least right now. "Thank you," he said, and returned to his seat. "Well," he said to Nathan, "that went better than I expected."

"Why? What did you expect?"

"I expected him to try and kill me. He's promised not to."

"Um, good? I guess."

"You are very wise, young one. You have helped me in ways I never thought possible. Are you sure you are only nine?"

He smiled, and then Nathan smiled, and everything was all right.


	10. Christmas Day

Nathan had been warned not to get up before eight, but it was six-thirty, and he just couldn't get back to sleep. He couldn't wait to open all his presents, even though Dad had told him that he was not to open anything until everyone was up.

Maybe if he was quiet and didn't wake anyone else up, it would be all right. He got up and silently (or at least as silently as he could manage) crept out to the living room, where he found piles and piles of presents in all different colors. He was tempted to rush over and rip them open right now, but he knew that if he did, Dad would be mad, so he let them be.

Spongebob wasn't on this early, but one of the high-number stations had Scooby-Doo, and that was okay. He liked Scooby-Doo. He kept the volume down as low as he could, which was hard for someone with no actual ears. He could hear pretty well, actually, but things like glasses and headphones were impossible to use. He'd broken Riley's headphones trying to jam them into his ear holes, which were not designed for that purpose. Ear buds didn't work for him; he'd have to use those big DJ-style headphones that went all the way over the ear, or in his case, the place where his ears should be but weren't.

"Merry Christmas," said a voice from the doorway. He looked up and saw Mr. Stark, in his best blue tailored robe, standing there smiling.

"Merry Christmas."

"Ah, you have excellent taste in cartoons, my young friend." He came over and sat on the sofa beside Nathan. "I used to watch this all the time when I was your age."

"You did?"

"Yeah, it's been around that long. Is this classic Scooby, or one of the newer ones?"

"I dunno."

"I used to have the biggest crush on Velma. I know, I know-Daphne's hotter. But I always liked the smart chick. Besides, I thought once Velma took off her glasses, got her hair done, and got rid of the orange knee socks, she might be pretty good-looking. You never know. Maybe if Shaggy cleaned himself up a bit, they'd make a cute couple."

Nathan didn't know what to say to that.

The two of them kept sneaking peeks at the pile of presents, and then during the last commercial break in the program, Mr. Stark got up and went over to the tree. "I can't wait any longer," he said. "I'm gonna open one."

"No, you can't! Not till everyone's here!"

"Hey, my house, my rules. If I want to open one-one present-who's gonna stop me?"

"I could stop you."

"Yeah? What're you gonna do, tackle me?"

"I could."

"But you won't."

"But I could."

"You gotta move fast, Sasquatch!" He dove for the pile and grabbed the closest present with his name on it. "Look at that, it's from you. So you already know what it is, right?"

"Yeah, but-"

"So I can go ahead and open it, and it won't spoil the surprise."

"But you shouldn't-"

"Too late, Junior. Here I go." He ripped the paper off and tossed it aside. Under the paper was a long, flat box that wasn't much of a mystery. Only a few things were that shape. He opened the box. "It's a tie."

"Yeah, I picked that out myself. Well, Dad helped a little."

Mr. Stark held the tie up and looked at it. "It's an Avengers tie."

"Yeah, it was the last one."

"What's this button do?" He pressed where it said to press, and the tie lit up with tiny red and blue lights, and tinny music that was supposed to be dramatic played. "Wow. Just . . . wow. This is the most obnoxious tie I've ever seen."

Nathan hung his head. "I'm sorry . . ."

"I love it! I'm gonna wear this to all my meetings. And tell everyone that I have the most amazing tie ever, from the best kid in the world." He came over and gave Nathan a hug. "Thank you, kiddo. I love it."

"Um . . . you're welcome. I guess."

"You wanna open one now? Here's one; it's from Pepper. Which means it's probably socks." He looked down at Nathan's oversized, clawed feet. "Maybe not. Here, take it."

"I'll wait." Nathan sat back down on the sofa and watched more Scooby-Doo.

His dad was the next one up. "Hey, buddy, I thought I told you eight o'clock."

"I couldn't sleep. I kept the TV down low."

"Okay." He looked down and saw scraps of wrapping paper all over the floor. "Did you open a present?"

"No, that was me," said Mr. Stark. "I opened my lovely, obnoxious tie that I'm sure you picked out."

"I may have suggested something, but Nate made the final decision. So you like that hideous thing?"

"It's an attention-grabber. And attention is my middle name." A look passed between the two men, and Nathan wanted desperately to know what was going on. Was it one of those "you'll understand when you're older" things?

"Can I open another one?"

"Could I stop you?"

"No, but **he** could."

"**He** won't be coming to the party today."

"Too bad. I really wanted to see him in a Santa suit. That would make a great picture, wouldn't it?"

"Don't," Dad said, "even go there."

Miss Potts joined them by the time the second episode of Scooby-Doo ended, and Nathan was excited. "Now can we make breakfast?"

"Let's wait for some more people, okay? So it doesn't get cold."

"I see you opened my present to you already," Mr. Stark said, admiring her white lacy pajamas and matching robe.

"Well, you told me to. You said you wanted me to try it on. And then you wanted to see me take it off."

"Okay, not in front of the child, please!" said Dad. "What adults do in private is your own business; the rest of us don't need to hear about it."

" . . . ever wake me up like that again, I will make you regret it! Stay out of my bedroom!"

"Speaking of talk that the rest of us don't want to hear . . ." Mr. Stark nodded to the two Asgardians as they joined the rest of the crew. "Am I going to have to put you on separate floors?"

"At this point," said Mr. Loki, "separate buildings would be a better idea! He comes into my room, while I am sleeping, and jumps on my bed like an overactive puppy!"

"I did not jump on your bed! I merely leaned on it."

"You nearly knocked me onto the floor! Do you have any idea how much I hate you right now?"

"No fighting!" Nathan got up and placed himself between the two of them. "It's Christmas!"

"Who wants coffee? I'll go start some coffee." Miss Potts got up and went out to the kitchen, and Nathan followed her.

"Now can we start the breakfast?"

"Not yet, sweetie. Let's just have some coffee first, and then maybe in a little while, we'll make breakfast. Okay?"

"Okay," Nathan sighed. He already felt like he'd been up for hours, even though it had only been less than one hour.

"I'll let you know when it's time to start cooking, hon, okay? Go watch your cartoons."

Nathan smiled and went back to the living room, where he discovered that Mr. Barton and Miss Natasha had joined the rest of the family, lounging together on the long sofa. "Now can we open presents?" he asked.

"Not just yet," Dad said.

"Aw, let the kid open a present," said Mr. Stark. "It's okay if the person who gave it to him is here to see him open it. Let's see . . . oh, this one's from me. Wait, this is special. Let's save this one for later."

"Why?" Nathan asked.

"You'll see when you open it. Here we go. To Nathan, from Dad. Awww. He can open that one, right, Beebs?"

"I suppose so."

Nathan was very careful when he took off the wrapping paper. He slipped a claw under the tape, undid each end, and then slowly went along the edge of the paper, lifting it up a little at a time.

Too slowly for some people. "Give me that," Mr. Stark said, reaching for the present. "For God's sake, we'll be here till next Christmas! If you're gonna open a present, open the present! Don't take your time with it, we'll never be done!" He "helped" rip the remaining paper off the gift and threw it over his shoulder. "Now that's how you open a present! What is it?"

Nathan turned it over in his hands. "It's a puzzle," he said. "Five hundred pieces. What's the picture?"

"It's the Taj Mahal," Dad told him.

"That's in India, right?"

"It is."

"Have you seen it?"

"No, I was a little too busy, when I was there, to go sightseeing. Maybe someday you and I will see it together. How about that?"

The thought of going on a real vacation, just the two of them, made Nathan smile. "Thanks, Dad," he said, and put the puzzle behind him. "Who's next?"

Just then, Miss Potts brought out the coffee. "I'm going to go ahead and start breakfast," she said, and at that, Nathan jumped up and ran to the kitchen, pulling out the eggs and bacon and milk before she had even set the tray down.

He'd never tried to cook before, mostly because he was afraid of getting too close to the stove. Fur is flammable, after all. But if he wasn't doing the actual cooking, he would be happy to help out. Scrambled eggs were easy, right? Crack an egg in the bowl, add milk, and stir.

His first egg missed the bowl entirely and smashed on the floor. Mortified, he grabbed a bunch of paper towels and tried to clean it up, but he seemed to be making more of a mess. Maybe a wet cloth would help.

But when he turned the faucet on, the sprayer gadget beside the sink came on, and water went everywhere. This was just too much for him to deal with. He felt like crying, but instead he turned off the faucet and wiped up the water with the remaining paper towels. The egg mess was still on the floor; he took a few swipes at it with the now-damp paper towels, but the sticky, gloppy mess was hard to pick up.

_Whirrrr! _A sudden noise made him jump and look behind him. It was one of the cleaning robots his father had mentioned. It looked like a UFO, gliding across the floor so smoothly that there was almost no sound. It hovered over the dropped egg and sucked the entire mess up into itself, leaving not even one drop on the tile. Then it whirred on past him, continuing on its way.

He stared after the strange machine just as Miss Potts came in the kitchen. "Was that Thing One or Thing Two?" she asked.

"They have numbers?"

"Well, Tony calls them that. He loves to tease them-get in their way, drop crumbs on purpose so they're constantly going over and over the same spot, that kind of thing. He can be so immature sometimes."

"Oh. Um, I tried to start the eggs, but I dropped one."

"That's okay, we have plenty more. I'll crack, you stir, okay? Did you get the bacon out?"

"It's on the counter."

"Good. I'll get that going." She brought out a huge black frying pan and sprayed it with nonstick spray. "You can make the toast. You know how to work the toaster, don't you?"

"Sure." He checked to make sure it was plugged in first, and then slid four slices of bread into the slots.

"Now, you may have to turn the dial up a bit, cause I don't know how everyone likes their toast, but they probably want it a bit darker than it's set. Which is about as low as you can go. It comes out not so much toast as warm bread. Tony doesn't like burnt toast, so he goes to the other extreme to make sure it doesn't burn. Which I think is ridiculous, but no one asked me."

"Can I do that, once it's already going?"

"I don't know. Why don't you try?"

He turned the little dial to the right, just a few notches. That should be okay, shouldn't it? Meanwhile, he got out the next four slices of bread, to keep the chain going. He wasn't sure how much toast everyone would want, but whatever was left over, they could use for sandwiches or whatever. It wouldn't go to waste.

When the toast popped up, it was very lightly browned. He decided to do one more batch at that setting, and then set it a little darker for the next one. He himself liked his toast on the dark side, but since he wasn't the only one eating, he could save that for the end.

"Okay," Miss Potts said. "Stir this up and I'll pour it in the frying pan."

Nathan looked in the huge mixing bowl at what had to be the whole dozen eggs (minus the one he had dropped), easily. "Did you use all of them?"

"Just about. I'll do these ones, and then the other dozen. We've got a few people who can eat a whole lot."

"Yeah, like me." Nathan could probably eat the whole dozen eggs by himself, but he was too polite. "What about the bacon?"

"We'll do the bacon last. I think we can put it in the microwave, if I can find the thing for it."

"What thing for it?"

"It's a square plastic dish, it looks wavy . . . the last time I saw it, it was in the cupboard under the sink, where it doesn't belong. Guess who put it away last time."

It wasn't that hard to guess. Nathan smiled as he opened the cupboard in question, rooting around for something plastic and wavy. He didn't find it. "It's not here."

"No? Someone must have put it in a different cabinet. Try the one beside the fridge."

"I don't think it's in there. That's where the Pop Tarts are."

"Look anyway. It's got to be somewhere."

He looked. He looked through every single cabinet, high and low, including the one over the fridge. Finally, he reached way into the back of the cabinet where the cereal was kept, and his hand closed on something plastic and wavy. "I think I found it!"

"Well, good! Let's cook ourselves some bacon!"

The dish, Nathan found, was surprisingly small for the amount of bacon that they would have to cook (two entire packages' worth; Asgardians, it seemed, were voracious meat-eaters, and could have polished off an entire pig if one had wandered into the kitchen), so they would have to do it in stages. It might be a while before breakfast was ready.

The second batch of toast popped up. Nathan removed all four slices, buttered them, and put in the next batch, sliding the dial over another notch. He wondered if the others were opening presents. Maybe he should go make sure . . .

"I'll be right back," he said to Miss Potts.

"Where are you going?"

"Bathroom," he said. It wasn't a lie; he did have to go. "When should I tell everyone that breakfast will be ready?"

"Oh, it'll be a bit. Unless someone wants to give me a hand."

"I'll ask them nicely." He cut through the living room on his way to the bathroom, and noticed that the presents remained unopened. Good. He wouldn't miss anything, then.

After he finished his business (and washed his hands for about ten minutes), he went back through the living room and announced, "Miss Potts says breakfast will be a while, unless someone wants to help her."

"You can't make me feel guilty," said Mr. Stark, "cause I have no guilt."

"I'll help her," Dad said, and got up from his chair. "What still needs to be done?"

"The bacon," Nathan told him. "We found the microwave dish, but it's really small, so we'll have to do batches."

"Where are the muffins?"

"Muffins?"

Dad slapped his forehead in mock-surprise. "Did I forget to tell you? I had a basket of muffins sent up. They should be here now."

"What kind of muffins?"

"All kinds. I got three dozen; we can eat those while the breakfast cooks. That okay with you?"

"Thanks, Dad!"

The basket of muffins was sitting on the floor by the elevator, and it was a big basket, wrapped in red and green cellophane with a gold bow on the top. It looked like it would be enough to hold everyone for a while, until breakfast was ready. Nathan picked it up by the handle and carried it over to the coffee table. "Hey, guys, we have some—"

"MUFFINS!" Thor lunged for the basket, trying to grab a muffin, but was stopped by the wrapping. "What is this? What spell prevents me from taking one of these pastry delights?"

Loki smirked. "It's called plastic. You have to take it off first."

"How do I do that?"

"Give it here," Clint said. He produced a small pocket knife and cut open the wrapping at the top, tearing it open. "All yours."

"No, they're for everybody," Nathan said. "Dad said we all have to share."

"Quite right," said Thor. He took one, started to hand the basket off to Nathan, then took another before letting go of the precious booty. Even two would not be enough, but they would have to do for now.

"Ooh, that chocolate chip muffin is mine!" Natasha's quick reflexes snatched it out of the basket as it went past her. "Wow, they're big, aren't they?"

There was a two-note chime. "Attention," said JARVIS, "Director Fury is on his way up."

"Oh, for Christ's sake!" Tony exclaimed. "It's Christmas! Doesn't that man ever give us a break?"

"Save him a muffin," said Nathan.

A moment later, Fury stepped off the elevator. He had a red paper shopping bag with him. "Merry Christmas, Avengers. I come bearing gifts."

"And assignments, no doubt," Tony grumbled. "We're not even dressed yet! It's eight o'clock on Christmas morning, and—"

"Oh, shut up, Stark." Fury thrust a small wrapped package at him. "I'm not here on official business. Not yet, anyway."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Gifts first," Fury said, making the rounds and passing out gifts. "Then we'll talk."

"I have one for you, too, Mr. Fury!" Nathan exclaimed, rushing to the tree and digging around in the present pile until he found it. It didn't take long at all, and he brought it back and handed it to the SHIELD director. "It's not a gun."

"Oh, good. I have plenty of those."

"Told you," Bruce said to his son. "See?"

"Okay," Nathan said, "everybody has to open theirs at the same time. Ready? One . . . two . . . three . . . go!"

There was a great flurry of unwrapping; scraps of paper went everywhere. Though it wasn't a race, Nathan noticed that everyone else was done before he was. He was trying to be careful and not rip the gift along with the paper, but maybe Mr. Stark was right. Maybe he should be a little less neat.

"What . . . is this?" he asked.

Mr. Fury smiled. "It's a Swiss Army knife. It's got all kinds of useful tools on there: screwdriver, corkscrew, magnifying glass, tweezers, bottle opener, can opener, scissors, nail file, death ray . . ."

"Whaaaat?"

"Just threw that in to see if you were paying attention."

"I'll be da—darned," said Mr. Stark. "He does have a sense of humor. I owe somebody five bucks."

"Me," said Steve. "What is this thing?" He turned the card over and over, but it was mostly blank.

"That," said Mr. Fury, "is your company credit card. It's got a limit of five thousand dollars on it, which is all I could swing with taxpayer money. Don't go nuts. Also, we have access to your purchase history, so if you're buying something we don't think you should have, the card will be cut off."

"Got it," said Mr. Stark. "I'll keep my porn on my personal card."

Dad was looking at the card (they were color-coded; his was green) with something approaching awe. "I've never had five thousand dollars before. I wouldn't know what to do with it. Well, actually, I **would** know what to do, but I don't know if I'm allowed."

Loki was staring at his card, which was dark green with a gold border. "Yours is a little different," Mr. Fury explained. "You're not ready for a high-limit card yet, so this is a pre-loaded debit card. Works pretty much the same way, except that your limit is two hundred dollars. The money is deposited onto the card every first Friday of the month; if you use it all the first day, that's it until the next month. Just so you don't go too crazy."

"Two hundred dollars. Is that a lot?"

"Considering that you have free room and board, meals, and a pretty decent setup here, you don't need a lot. But it's there if you need it. Yours is monitored as well."

"You people really don't trust me, do you?"

Fury just gave him a look. "Don't push it," he said.

"Breakfast is ready!" Miss Potts called from the kitchen.

The rest of the presents had to wait until after breakfast. Nathan had never had so many presents before. He got a hat and gloves from Miss Potts (the hat fit okay, but the gloves were a little too small), a copy of the first Harry Potter book from Mr. Barton, a Lady Gaga CD from Miss Tasha, and his favorite, a big picture book of World War 2 photos from Captain America himself.

Mr. Thor gave him a real Viking helmet, with huge horns, into which his own horns fitted like fingers in a glove. He tried it on, and Miss Darcy took his picture.

"You look really badass," she said.

"I'm sorry, I'll take it off—"

"No," said Miss Jane, "that's good. You look good."

The two ladies had gone in together on a real telescope—a small one, but it really worked.

"And it folds up," Miss Jane said, showing him. "So you can pack it in your trunk, and take it home with you. Just be careful with it, okay?"

"I will," he promised.

Mr. Loki's gift was smaller than the others. "I didn't really have time to shop," he said. "It's not even wrapped." And he unceremoniously handed Nathan a Spongebob keychain.

"That's okay. I like it. I just wish I had some keys to put on it."

Immediately, everyone checked their keyrings, and found at least one key that they didn't need. Dad helped him thread all the keys onto the ring, and he waved it around a bit, listening to it jingle. Like sleigh bells.

Mr. Stark insisted that Nathan save his gift for last. "You'll see why," was all he would say. At last, the moment came, and Nathan turned to his final gift.

It was a big box. And when he picked it up and shook it. He heard stuff rattling around inside.

"Oh, no, no, no," Mr. Stark said. "Don't do that! You'll break it. Just open it. I'll help, if you want."

"Okay." Together they ripped open the paper, and then Nathan tried to lift the lid, but it was taped on.

"Here." Mr. Fury opened the Swiss Army knife and flipped through the attachments until he found a small knife blade. "Try this."

"Thanks."

"See? Comes in handy, doesn't it?"

Nathan slipped the blade under the lid of the box and slit the tape all the way around. Then, finally, he was able to take the lid off . . .

The first thing he saw was the picture.

"That's the Project Minotaur team," Mr. Stark told him. "Look at that and tell me who you recognize."

He spotted his dad right away. "There's Dad. And there's you!" He pointed to the front row, right side.

"Yeah. Now who else do you see?"

He looked harder. Then he saw her. "Mother." She was on the other side, near the back. "It's her . . ." He didn't know he was crying until he felt wetness on his cheeks.

"Here." Mr. Stark handed him a napkin left over from breakfast. "You miss her, don't you?"

"Yeah." He looked at her again, and this time, he saw someone behind her. **Him.** "That's the . . . the Bad Guy."

Mr. Stark nodded sadly. "This was taken just before he was pulled off the project. But there's one more person you haven't seen yet."

"Someone invisible?"

"More like . . . hidden. I'll give you a hint: this picture was taken in March, 2003. Does that give you any clue?"

Two thousand three . . . "I was born in 2003. In October. And this is March?"

"Yep."

Now he knew who the hidden person was. "It's me! Before I was born."

"Before anyone even knew you existed. Except, of course, for your mom . . . and him. But only because they made you. The rest of us never had a clue. There's more stuff in there. Go on, look."

He lifted up the picture and set it aside gently. Underneath it was an ID badge with her name and photo on it, hanging on a blue lanyard. He picked it up and looked at it. "What's Code Brown?"

"What?"

"Right here." He pointed to the words on the left side of the badge. "What's that mean?"

"Oh, that was . . . that was her work group, I think. They had different colors. Blue and green and gray and brown. Brown was the highest security level, I think. I don't remember all that well; you're talking about something that was going on almost ten years ago. And I was drunk most of the time anyway." He smiled, but Nathan wasn't sure if he was kidding.

Under the badge was a plain manila folder with her name on the tab. He opened it, wondering if these were her files, but they were only handwritten notes on unrelated matters. _Buy milk. Judy—555-8707. _He wondered who Judy was, and if she still had the same number. After nearly ten years, was it even possible? _B. smiled at me this morning! Hope yet._

The stuff in the folder wasn't anything important; on the other hand, these were samples of her handwriting. Nathan paged through the notes all the way to the end, but there was nothing about him. She must have taken the important stuff with her.

"Is that it?" he asked.

Mr. Stark just smiled at him. "Do you think I'd stop there? Few more things to discover. I know it seems like junk, but these things wouldn't mean anything to anyone else, so they're yours. Keep looking."

He set the folder aside and looked in the box. There was a bobblehead doll in the shape of Kermit the Frog, a couple of cheap plastic rings . . .

"Cracker Jack prizes," Dad explained. "I used to buy those three-packs of Cracker Jack boxes, but I could never finish more than one, so I let her have the rest. I had no idea she saved the prizes. I would have given her mine instead of throwing them away. She probably would have kept them, too."

Nathan looked at the rings, which were far too small to fit on his thick fingers. "What do I do with these?"

"You could make earrings out of them! I could pierce your ears for . . ." Miss Darcy began, before she noticed that his ears were only holes on the sides of his head, covered by thin flaps of skin. "Maybe we could string them on a necklace or something?"

"I knew a guy," Mr. Barton said, "who had his mother's engagement ring made into a belt buckle. I don't know how that would work in this case . . . but it's an idea, right?"

Nathan agreed and thanked him for the suggestion.

The last item in the box was a passport, expired as of September, 2002. She must have tossed it aside when she received the new one, which she had tried to use to leave the country more than once. Nathan knew this only because his dad had told him; he didn't know what had happened to her after he had been taken away to a containment facility which hadn't been as secure as his handlers had thought. He looked through the pages, only two of which were stamped.

"What was in Ecuador?" he asked. "She made five trips to Ecuador in 2001. Was that for work, or what?"

Mr. Stark just shrugged. "I think she had family there. Distant family—cousins, or something. She never took any pictures."

"But the trips stopped in February of 2002. What happened? Did they die? Did she not have enough vacation time? We need to find out where she was going, and who she was seeing."

"You need to stop watching so many crime dramas on TV," Dad said, but he was smiling. "I remember her being gone a lot, but when I asked her about it, she just said it was 'family business.' Maybe we'll never know."

"So you don't even want to try? Come on, Dad!"

He just shook his head. "What were you planning to do, call everyone in the entire country and ask if they knew the Sandovals?"

"Um . . . I dunno."

"At least let me make the call. You don't even speak Spanish."

"I could learn."

"Promise me you won't go bothering people in Ecuador until I do a little more research. I know you want to meet them, but . . . one step at a time, buddy. I'll look into this for you, and call you when I have something. Okay?"

"Okay." Nathan put all the stuff back in the box and closed it up again. "This was a great present. Thanks, Mr. Stark."

"Okay, you know what? We're practically family already, so I want you to call me Uncle Tony. Can you do that, kiddo?"

"I guess."

"He's right," said Steve. "We are a family. I guess we're all your aunts and uncles. I never had a family before, but . . . I'd be proud to call you my nephew."

"Thanks," said Nathan, blushing a rusty green. "Uncle Steve."

The nomenclature broke down when he got to Mr. Fury, who didn't look like an uncle at all. He supposed it was okay to keep a layer of formality between them, at least for now.

Bruce drew Tony aside. "Nice cheap present," he said. "You kept the stuff they cleaned out of her locker?"

"Yeah. I don't know why. I just shoved it in the vault and forgot about it, until you said he was coming. Then I knew why I'd been saving it all these years. Sucks that that's all he has left of her, doesn't it?"

"That and a stone with her name on it. Which we don't even know where it is."

"I'll find it for you. I promise."

"You don't have to do that—"

"I do. I owe you both. Especially since I gave him a box of locker crap. I'll make it up to him on his birthday."

"You've got ten months to plan, then."

"Oh, I won't need ten months. You wait and see what I come up with."

"Will you be staying for dinner, Director Fury?" Pepper asked, but just as she said that, phones were ringing all over the room. Fury answered his first.

"Yeah? What? On motherfu—on Christmas Day? Yes, I know they probably have different holidays! I'll assemble the team and send them on their way." He hung up and announced, "Our little blue friends are back, and this time, they're really angry. We need all of you to move out now. Hopefully we'll be back in time for dinner."

Darcy gaped at him. "But it's Christmas! You can't fight aliens on Christmas! If there isn't a law against it, there should be!"

"We don't have a choice," said Steve. "Okay, team, let's suit up and move out. Hopefully Round Two will be a bit more interesting than Round One."

"Not too interesting," said Pepper. "Some of us still haven't opened our presents yet."

"We'll be back in plenty of time," Tony reassured her. "These guys are pushovers."

"They **were **pushovers," Fury said. "They won't be as easy to beat the second time around. Don't take them lightly, or you'll pay for it."

"Don't forget your extra clothes, Dad," Nathan said.

"And where am I supposed to keep them?"

"Put them someplace before you change, and then go back for them when it's all over. I'll pack your bag for you, if you want."

"No, that's okay. I've got it."

"This is so unfair!" Darcy pouted. "You guys can't go fight aliens on Christmas! Don't you get some kind of clause in your contract that says no holidays or—ooh, Mr. Magoo. I love this one!" She sat down on the sofa and immersed herself in the cartoon.

Jane had only tender words for her lover. "Just come back to me in one piece, that's all I ask."

"I have not even given you your Present of Christmas yet."

"I'll wait. For you, always."

Thor bent down to hold her in his arms. "I will always come back to you."

"Just keep dinner warm for us," Tony said to Pepper. "Sounds like we might be a while."

"I'll be here," she said.

"Please try to answer the phone if I call this time."

"I've got it right here," she said, showing him that her phone was on and ready. "Try not to almost die this time."

"Can't promise anything, but I'll do my best." He stepped out onto the roof, and his suit formed around him. Then he was off.

The others waited for more conventional transport, except for Thor, who twirled his hammer in the air so fast that it lifted him right off the ground. Nathan thought that was really cool.

"What do we do now?" he asked.

"Wait here," Loki said, as if it were obvious. "There's nothing we can do. If I had my magic, I could go and help . . . but I have been stripped of all my powers."

"Daddy grounded you big-time, huh?" said Darcy.

"And even if I had them, do you think they would trust me to help them? They'd be too busy watching their backs to be able to fight off the aliens effectively. I'd just be an unwelcome distraction."

"I can do stuff," Nathan said.

Miss Potts (he wasn't ready to call her Aunt Pepper yet) looked at him. "Sweetie, there's no way you're going anywhere near that mess! Your dad would kill me if I let you go, and something happened to you."

"But I can help!"

"Absolutely not! Now sit down and watch the movie. Anyone want any more muffins? Juice? Bacon?"

No one did. They sat in silence and watched all the Christmas specials, even the one about the dog.

After about an hour or so, Darcy began to get restless. "There must be **something **we can do!" she exclaimed, waving her arms around. "Just sitting here waiting is so lame! We don't even know what's going on with them right now!"

Just then, the cartoon cut off suddenly. "This is a special report from News Seven."

"Oh, that's helpful." She sat back down again. "Maybe I have magic powers after all: the power to summon the information we need right when we need it."

"I doubt it," said Loki. "I would have sensed it as soon as I met you."

"Yes, but you don't have your magic," she pointed out. "How could you have?"

"Shush." Pepper turned the volume up.

" . . . Avengers are on the scene, fighting off what appear to be small blue beings with powerful energy weapons."

"Wonderful," said Loki. "They've raided the Chitauri weapons stores."

"I want to hear this!" said Jane.

"Police have set up a perimeter at—"

A blare of tinny music drowned out the next few words. "Oh, sorry, that's my phone." Jane stepped over by the elevator and answered it. "Hello? Erik! Yes, I'm fine. We're miles away from all that. Yes, I'm watching it on TV. We'll be fine . . ."

Loki wished he could do something to help. Last time he had felt this way, he had gone out and dragged home a huge pine tree. Somehow, he didn't think that would help in this case.

"If only you had your powers," Darcy remarked. "You could go blast those guys, and this would all be over."

"Yes, but I don't have them, do I?"

"What do you have to do to get them back?"

"Prove to my f—to Odin that I am worthy of great power again. Might as well try to move the Earth with a teaspoon."

"Well," she said, "have you tried **asking **him?"

He blinked. The idea had never occurred to him.

"Nicely," said Nathan, who had been listening in. "Ask him nicely, and say please."

"I could never just ask—"  
"What do you have to lose?" she pointed out.

"If he says no," the boy said, "at least you tried."

Was it worth the try? "All right," he agreed. "I'll try. But I can promise nothing."

Who do gods pray to?

Other gods.

It was the first time in his life that Loki had ever had to pray, and he hoped he didn't screw it up.

_(A/N: Merry Christmas, everyone! Special thanks to Guest, who anonymously reviewed the last chapter. Still more to come!)_


	11. A Battle They Can't Win?

_God, don't let me screw this up._

The civilians had been evacuated, but Captain America still felt uneasy about the situation. The last time his team had fought these beings, they hadn't had weapons this sophisticated, only small hand-held blasters.

"_Where'd they get the hardware?" _Iron Man asked, over the com. _"Evil Aliens 'R Us?"_

"Right now I don't care, as long as we can hold them off. Who's on the south perimeter?"

"_Widow and I are here," _said Hawkeye. _"Good news: their little flying scooters aren't bulletproof."_

"Good to know. Thanks. We find the mother ship yet?"

"_Cap, this is Hill. We're scanning from the air, but they must have a sophisticated cloaking device or something. We're not picking them up on radar."_

"_Or they're not here," _said Iron Man. _"Maybe Mama dropped them off for their play date. Yes—I'm seeing a vapor trail that heads off to the southwest. Going after it."_

"No! We need you here!" Cap ordered him. "Transmit your data to the Helicarrier; SHIELD can track them. You stay here and contain them closer to home."

"_I can get there faster—"_

"That's an order! They're trying to break through the northeast perimeter. Go and contain them."

"_Hulk's over that way. That's all the containment we need."_

"Hulk . . . lacks focus. Give him a hand. Just stay out of his reach, cause when he starts smashing, sometimes he doesn't look first."

"_Got it." _Moments later, Cap saw a red and gold streak through the sky, and felt a sense of relief. He didn't like having to butt heads with his team, particularly Stark, who sometimes—hell, most of the time—acted like he was the one in charge.

_What we need, _he thought, as he made his way through what was usually, at this time of day, a busy street, _is one of their weapons. Just one. But we haven't been able to take them away from the living aliens, and we haven't found one intact that came from a dead one. Yet. And I'm almost out of ammo._

* * *

"Hear me, Odin Allfather," Loki prayed. He was seated before the mirror in the hall, because mirrors could see between the dimensions (If you knew how to access them properly), and his words stood a better chance of reaching their intended recipient that way. "I come before you a changed man. No longer do I desire power for its own sake; I ask only to be given the power to help others, to do good deeds on their behalf."

Would he buy it? Loki wasn't sure, but he always knew the right words to convince anyone of anything. Convincing the Allfather that he, Loki, was once again worthy of his magic, that would take every ounce of persuasion that he had.

"Please return to me what was mine, what I lost because I gave in to jealousy and greed. I vow never to make such a mistake again." No, he'd just make **different **mistakes this time. "I beg you please to reconsider this punishment, and find it in your heart to forgive me. Please, Father."

Surely that would convince him, more than anything else. Loki waited, gazing into the mirror's depths, to see what the answer would be.

The mirror clouded over, and through the fog he could see . . .

The wall behind him. That was all.

He felt no sense of power running through him. Oh, well, he had tried. He had even said please. Loki sighed, turned away . . . and then whipped around and struck the mirror so hard that it shattered.

"Damn you! Why won't you forgive me? What do I have to do to make you give it back?" He punched the mirror again and again, until his hands were bleeding and the mirror lay in shards on the carpet. Then he fell to his knees and cried.

He had failed.

* * *

"Have you found that mother ship yet?" Cap demanded. The little blue sons-of-bees were still coming, and no matter how many he took down, there were always more behind them.

"_Working on it . . ." _Hill sounded more than a little pissed off, and he really couldn't blame her. But if they found the mother ship that much sooner, he'd take her wrath any day.

"Do we at least have them contained?"

"_I have them, Captain." _It was the first time Steve had heard Thor use the com, and frankly, he was impressed. The Asgardian had trouble with simple electronics, and his usual solution for not being able to make a device work properly was to throw it against the nearest hard surface. Someone must have explained to him that such a measure was not the way to do it. That, or shown him how to work the thing.

"Good. Keep them out of the populated areas and in the line of fire. See if you can get your hands on one of their guns. Don't break it! The lab techs will want to get a look at it, if it's intact."

"_Cap, I've got a lock on the mother ship." _That was Hill, on the helicarrier. _"They're above the cloud cover, heading southeast."_

"Toward the city?"

"_We'll try to shoot them down from here, but if we can't, you may have to abandon your position and move out."_

"Understood. Everyone hear that?" he asked

One by one, the other team members acknowledged.

"Keep taking out the ones on the ground. Who's on the southeast perimeter?"

"_Widow and I are here," _Hawkeye reported. _"We're keeping an eye out for that ship, but I don't think I have enough—" _There was a sudden exclamation, a wordless cry of pain.

"What was that?"

"_It's nothing! I can keep going!" _That was Natasha, and she sounded as if she strained against a great weight.

"_She's hit! Repeat, Black Widow has been hit!" _Clint sounded strained as well. _"I'm taking her back to base."_

"_The hell you are! Not till the job's done! Give me my damn gun back!"_

"_Stop bickering, you two!" _Fury's voice came on the line. _"Barton, you know she's not gonna stop until it's all over, so don't even bother. Just bind the wound up and keep at it. Can you get a clear shot at that mother ship?"_

"_I don't see it yet—wait! It's just passing above us now!"_

"See if it has a vulnerable spot," said Steve. "If we can get a bomb up there—"

"_Loading one now, but I don't know if I can—"_

"_Just do it!" _Fury ordered.

"Anyone see the Hulk around?" Of course the Jade Giant didn't have a com; he wouldn't have known how to work it, and probably would have broken it if he did try to use it. So whoever was closest to him passed the orders on to him.

"_He's moving south from his previous position," _Iron Man told him. _"Looks like he's going after the mother ship."_

"Is the bomb ready to go yet?"

"_It's a small bomb. I don't know if it'll do much to that behemoth—"_

"It will if you hit it in the right place. I trust you to wait for the right shot, but don't wait too long. Tony, keep Hulk out of the way if you can. We don't want him interfering with that bomb."

"_Got it."_

"_Bomb is released. Repeat, bomb is on its way."_

There was a long moment when everyone seemed to be holding their collective breath. Steve looked off to the southeast, but he couldn't see anything. Then there was a bright flash, but that was it.

"_Dammit!"_

"What happened?"

"_It impacted, but did minimal damage. The ship's still moving toward the city."_

"_They'll most likely find the highest point," _said Hill, _"and offload the rest of the troops."_

"_The highest point," _Tony muttered, and then suddenly swore under his breath. The next thing Steve saw was a red-gold streak shooting off to the southeast, after the mother ship.

"What was that about?" he asked.

"_Do you know what the highest point in New York City is?" _Fury asked him.

"Sure, the Empire State Building."

"_Not any more. Not since some idiot built a huge-ass tower smack in the middle of downtown."_

It took a minute for that to sink in, but when it did, Cap muttered a curse word and started to move out. "We need to back him up—"

"_Negative! Hold your position! We'll try and intercept if we can. You stay where you are and keep beating back the ground troops! If we need you, we'll let you know."_

"There are civilians in that tower!"

"_We're aware of that, Cap. We'll get to them in time and see to their safety. You just maintain your position and let us do our job."_

"Acknowledged," he said, though he wasn't happy about it. He took his frustrations out on the aliens.

* * *

"Are you okay?" Darcy saw the blood on Loki's hands and rushed over to help him.

"Yes, I . . . broke a mirror."

"Did you fall? Do you need help? Maybe we should drive you to the hospital—"

"No, no, it's not that bad. The cuts are merely superficial. They look worse than they are."

"I'll go get the first aid kit, then."

There was a three-note chime from above. "Excuse me, ladies and gentlemen," said JARVIS, "but there appears to be a rather large floating craft approaching the tower."

"Floating craft?" Pepper asked. "Like the SHIELD helicarrier?"

"No, though the helicarrier is also in the vicinity. This ship is of an entirely different size and shape."

A different chime sounded. "Call coming in from Mr. Stark."

"Put it through." No way was she missing another call from him.

"_Guys, you've got to get out of the tower now! The alien mother ship is on its way!"_

"Alien mother ship?" Jane looked alarmed. "Why are they here?"

"_Highest point in the city. Get down to ground level; I'll hold them off till the cavalry arrives. Don't use the elevator—they might cut the electricity. Go down the stairs. I know it's eighty floors, but you need to get out of there now!"_

"It's okay!" said Darcy. "Loki can just zap 'em with his magic!"

The god looked vaguely uncomfortable. "I don't . . . I don't have it back yet."

She stared at him, wide-eyed. "But I thought you asked for it back!"

"I failed, all right? Odin refused to return my powers! I am as helpless as a . . . as a human. Where are those stairs?"

"This way!" Pepper started off toward the other side of the floor, but suddenly there was a crash from behind them.

"_Shit! They've broken in! Hold on, I'm almost there!"_

"I'll hold them off!" said Nathan. "You go, all of you!"

"Are you crazy?" Pepper asked him. "You can't fight off the entire alien army by yourself!"

"I will stand with him," said Loki.

Everyone stared at him in shock.

"What? I may not have my magic, but I have not forgotten how to fight! Go! Take the stairs! We'll hold them off till Stark gets here!"

In response, Pepper went back to the kitchen and opened a drawer, taking out the longest, sharpest knife she could find.

"What are you doing?" Jane asked her.

"Defending my twelve percent. This is **my **home, and they have no right to be here!"

"What happened to 'You can't hold them off by yourself'?" asked Loki.

"Just improving the odds. If we all stand together, we might have a better chance."

"I'll go get my taser," said Darcy, but before she could get out of the room, the aliens were all around them. She picked up a frying pan instead. Jane grabbed the second-longest knife, waving it in an arc in front of her.

The little blue guys didn't seem to be armed, but they were ferocious little things. They had claws like a cat, as Pepper discovered when one of them slashed her across the cheek.

But Nathan's claws were bigger, and he slashed at the aliens, nearly severing one's head from its body. Purplish blood shot up into the air like a fountain, spattering on all the lovely Christmas decorations.

The others weren't doing so badly, either. Jane slashed her knife back and forth with a ferocity that belied her size. Even Loki was impressed.

"You'd make a fine shield maiden," he said, when she passed close to him.

"Shield maiden?"

"One of our warrior women. Like Sif."

"Ah." She lunged forward and cut down an alien who'd been getting too close.

Darcy was swinging the frying pan as if it were a baseball bat, knocking the aliens aside. One went flying across the room, straight into the tree. There was a popping of bulbs and then a crashing of branches.

"I'm sorry! I didn't mean that! Our beautiful tree!"

"Forget the tree! The tree is not important!" Loki called out to her, though he felt a pang of sadness at the destruction of the tree he'd brought home to impress her. "We'll get another one! Just keep beating them back!" He had a rolling pin, and wielded it like a club, driving them back towards the hole in the window, hoping to knock them back through it.

And it was at that moment that Iron Man swooped in through the already-broken window and landed between the aliens and the civilians.

"You boys broke my window," he said. "Gonna have to charge you for that."

The aliens broke away and charged at him, and the others regrouped behind him while he attacked the aliens with controlled repulsor blasts.

"I thought I told you to get out of here," he whispered to Pepper.

"We can hold them off," she replied.

"All of them? We can't let any of them into the rest of the building! They're here for something, and I want to know what."

"So we should keep them here?"

"In this room. I think they're after my files. We need to keep them away from any terminals—"

"But you've got connections all over this room."

"Yes, but they don't know that. They'll be looking for a standard setup."

"And why do you think they want your information?"

"They want to know how to beat us. I've got copies of the whole team's personnel files stored in my data banks. If they saw those—"

"We need to move to the doors," she said, a little louder, so the others would hear her. "Block them from getting out of this room."

"And to think, I used to like Smurfs," Darcy muttered.

* * *

_(A/N: I apologize for the awkwardness of this chapter, but I'm not good at writing action. I hope you liked it anyway, though!)_


	12. The Family that Fights Together

"So what do we do now?" Nathan asked.

The blue aliens were in mid-attack when one of them noticed Loki, and chattered excitedly to the others. All at once, they broke off their attack and stood there staring at him.

At this, the combatants stood down, waiting for the next move.

"What do they want?" Jane looked from one to the next, and they looked back at her with their huge round amber eyes.

"Me," Loki said quietly.

They all looked at him.

"They want me. If he did send them, they want to take me to him to pay for my failure. And . . . I deserve it. If I give myself up, they'll go away."

"I say we give him up," said Tony.

Now they were all looking at **him**.

"What? It's not like we need him! All he's doing is taking up space, and he can do that somewhere else."

"He can hear you, you know," said Loki.

"Nothing personal, Rudolph. It's just . . . total destruction of the city, **again**, versus losing someone who's not supposed to be here in the first place . . . it's a no-brainer. Sometimes you have to sacrifice the pawn to win the game."

"Nice to know you care so much about me."

"Needs of the many outweighing the needs of the few, or the one. Don't forget to send us a postcard."

"How can you be so heartless?" Darcy demanded. "You know they're gonna torture him when they get him back to their ship! You've seen his scars! They'll kill him!"

"While I appreciate the support," Loki said, "my mind is made up. I'm going with them. What happens, happens. I'm prepared to deal with it."

"I don't believe this," said Tony. "You're giving yourself up to save the rest of us?"

"No, I'm giving myself up because I know if I don't, I'll get blamed for what happens next. I'd rather take my chances with the aliens than with SHIELD, thank you."

He lowered his arms, dropping the rolling pin to the floor, and stood with his head down, waiting for them to move in and take him away. After a moment of confusion, the aliens figured it out. Two of them grabbed his arms, and the rest formed a ring around him. They marched him out through the hole in the window, to the ship, and away.

It was only moments later that the Hulk smashed through a different part of the same window, making a second hole.

"Really?" Tony muttered under his breath. "You couldn't have used the other hole?"

A shadow fell across them as the Helicarrier hovered overhead.

"Oh, boy, we're in trouble now."

* * *

Nick Fury was not happy to hear the news that Loki had given himself up to the aliens.

"And you just let him go?"

"He insisted! Besides, it solves all our problems with the least amount of trouble."

"Says you," Darcy grumbled.

Fury looked around at the mess and debris, and got on the phone. "I need a cleanup crew here, to clear away the bodies and replace the broken glass. Oh, and get a new Christmas tree. Well, find one!"

"And that's it?" Darcy persisted, despite frantic signals from Jane to quit it already. "You're just gonna let the Smurfs from Hell get away with their prisoner, whom they're probably torturing right now-"

"They haven't gotten away," Fury told her. "Their ship is still hovering over the city . . . like they're waiting for something."

"I think they have a hive mind," said Bruce, who was sitting on the couch in a borrowed robe, Nathan beside him. "They're all connected. That's why the ground troops retreated as soon as the mother ship left the tower. They knew they had what they came for, so they pulled back to the drop point. Or something like that."

It was then that Thor burst in, through the window, making a third hole.

"For God's sake! There's a door right there!" Tony exploded. "How do three separate people miss a big French door right in the middle of the balcony?"

Thor seemed not to notice the destruction he had left behind. He strode up to Tony and demanded, "Man of Iron, is it true? Have the imps taken my brother?"

"Yeah, I'm afraid so. We tried to stop them-"

At this, Darcy made a sound somewhere between a laugh and a sob.

"-but he insisted. Gave himself up to them, to save us."

The Thunder God frowned. "That is not like him at all."

"Oh, come on!" Darcy exclaimed. "Why is it so hard for you to believe he can change? It's Christmas! People change at Christmas! It happened to the Grinch, it happened to Ebenezer Scrooge, it even happened to J. R. Ewing! May he rest in peace," she added reverently. "So why can't you believe that Loki can change, too?"

"I don't think it actually happened to J. R.," Tony began, but Fury interrupted him.

"I've been around long enough to know that Christmas miracles don't really happen as often as you'd think. If Loki let the aliens take him, it was for some other reason than wanting to help us. He's got some other agenda, I guarantee you that."

"What could possibly make him surrender himself like that?" Thor asked.

Suddenly there was a burst of static, and a bright flash from outside the window. Then Steve's voice filled the room.

"_Something just happened to the alien ship! They're going down! All the guys on the ground just dropped at once, just like the Chitauri! What the hell happened?"_

There was a flash inside the room, like all the bulbs on the Christmas tree blowing at once, and then Loki was standing before them, dressed in his customary armor and curved helmet.

"I happened," he said. "Don't worry, I didn't kill them. I just knocked them unconscious for about an hour or so. Their ship should land safely in the harbor, if I interpreted their controls correctly. Oh, and here." He handed over one of the alien weapons. "For you to analyze."

There was stunned silence all around. Then Darcy stepped forward and smacked Loki on the arm.

"Ow! What was that for?"

"For lying and saying you didn't have your powers back when you did!"

"But . . . I didn't. At the time."

She gave him a look. "Right. You couldn't have done **that **without your powers!"

"I didn't get them back until I was on the ship! I don't know why!"

"Well, this changes everything," Tony observed.

Thor was jubilant. "Welcome back, brother! I had feared that you were gone forever! So Father has forgiven you for your transgressions! Come, let us celebrate!"

"Hold on one second," said Fury. "We're not done here. I want to know **exactly **what you did, and when. Don't think that saving our butts this time excuses everything else you did."

"I didn't expect it would." Loki took a step back and raised his arms to show that he wasn't carrying any weapons. "If you want to lock me up, you're free to do so. I won't resist. But do keep in mind that I just sacrificed myself to save all of you, the city, and possibly the entire planet. That should count for something, should it not?"

"You expect me to believe," Fury said, crossing his arms in front of him, "that you suddenly got your powers back, like some kind of _deus ex machine_, just like that? And now you've changed your ways, and you want to do good works and help all mankind for the rest of your days?"

"That does sound rather a lot to swallow, doesn't it? But I swear to you, it's the truth! Give me a chance to prove myself!"

"So you can stab us in the back and run away? For all we know, your deal with your alien buddies went south, and they knocked themselves out to get rid of you!"

"Stop it!" Nathan stepped between the two of them. "Can't you see he really wants to help? He's not like he was before! They did something to his mind before, but he's on our side! Let him help!"

"Step aside, son," Fury said to him, but gently. "You're a good kid, and you always see the best in everyone, but you've got to learn sometime that some people just can't be trusted."

"He's been here for three days and he's been good! Except for that time he ran away, but he was just going to get us a Christmas tree."

"Ran away?" The SHIELD director looked at the Avengers. "Why wasn't I informed of this?"

"He came right back!" Darcy shrieked. "He wasn't gone more than half an hour or so! He didn't do anything wrong!"

"We have a tracking device on him," Bruce pointed out. "It won't happen again."

"You're damn right it won't happen again. Not where he's going." He reached out to grab the wayward god by the arm, but once again, Nathan blocked him.

"Where's your Christmas spirit?" he asked, nearly in tears. "At least let him have dinner with us before you take him away!"

The elevator dinged, and Steve stepped off, followed by Clint, who had his arm around Natasha's waist for support.

"What's going on?" the Super-Soldier asked.

"Someone got his powers back and didn't bother telling us," Fury said flatly. "Say goodbye."

"Tell him he can't do this! It's Christmas! You can't throw him in jail on Christmas! He hasn't done anything wrong!" Nathan insisted.

Steve looked at Loki, who was just standing there, innocently. "What happened? The last I heard, you were kidnapped by the blue guys. Did you make a deal with them to let you go?"

"Look." Loki raised his hands above his head. "I let them take me because I knew if I did, they would go away. Some time between when they took me and when the ship left, I felt my magic return."

"On its own?"

"I . . . did ask Odin for its return. All right, I begged. Happy?"

"So you didn't have your magic yet when you surrendered to them?"

"Not that I was aware of."

"Sir," Steve said, addressing Fury, "he sacrificed himself to save all of us. And you're locking him away?"

"Oh, not you too."

Meanwhile, Bruce helped Clint walk Natasha to the sofa, where he examined the bandages covering her wound. "How bad is it?"

"Like a bad burn, but mostly superficial," Clint told him. Natasha gave him a look. "What?"

"I can speak for myself, you know."

"I thought I'd give you a break. Let you catch your breath."

"I'm fine. It wasn't as bad as they thought. Just peeled away a few layers of skin. They cleaned it out and patched it up at the scene, and then I got out of there. I refuse to miss Christmas dinner over a little owie."

"I don't know," said Clint, "it looked pretty serious when you got zapped."

"Please. I've had a lot worse. They gave me some pills for the pain, but I don't need them."

"I'll hold onto them for you," Bruce offered. "Just in case you change your mind."

"Can't. Flushed 'em already."

"You're really serious about this anti-drug thing, aren't you?"

"They're a crutch I don't need. Why mess around with that stuff when I can get by without it?"

"If my father has judged him worthy, then that is all the proof I need!" Thor was shouting. "If the Allfather trusts him, why not you?"

"With all due respect, your father hasn't seen what he's done down here."

"Not today! If you take him, you'll have to take me too!"

There was a two-note chime from above. "Pardon the interruption," said JARVIS, "but dinner has just arrived. Shall I direct the delivery workers to the dining room?"

Loki looked expectantly at Fury. "Well? Do I get a last meal before I'm carted away to whatever hellish facility you have planned for me?"

This was the moment of truth. Nick Fury knew that everything, from this point on, would be on him. He looked from Nathan's pleading face to Darcy's indignant one, to Thor's protective expression, and he decided, for the second time, screw the Council.

"You're not going anywhere," he said. "You're part of the team now."

Loki was so shocked, his silver tongue failed him. He stared at Fury for a moment, and then managed, "Thank you, sir. I am in your debt."

"And don't you forget it. If you make me regret this, I'll hunt you down and kill you myself."

"That will not be necessary. I will comply with whatever orders you give me."

"You're only a probationary member, for now. Until you've proven that we can trust you, you're strictly reserves. If I need you, I'll call you, otherwise stay out of it. Clear?"

"Yes, sir."

"Come on," said Tony. "I ordered a turducken, because I've always wanted to try one. And we have regular turkey and ham, too, and all the trimmings. Hopefully, enough food for everyone."

There was plenty of food, enough for everyone, even the big eaters, to have seconds. After dinner, they sat around the TV and watched some silly Christmas specials.

"Oh, Nathan, look." Pepper came over, carrying a wrapped box. "There's one more for you."

He sat up and looked. "It came?"

"You were expecting this?"

"It's from Riley. She said she ordered it too late to give it to me before I left, so she'd have it shipped here. Should I open it now?"

"It's up to you, son," said Bruce. "If you want some privacy, you can go to your room and open it. Just let us know what it is, okay?"

"Okay." He retreated, package held in the crook of one long arm. When he got to his room and shut the door, he looked up.

"Mr. Jarvis?" he asked.

"Yes, Master Nathan?"

"Please don't record this. I don't want them to know what it is until after I open it."

"Recording disrupted. No visual record will be made of the next eight point seven minutes."

Nathan cocked his head at the ceiling. "Where'd you get that number?"

"By precisely calculating the amount of time needed to unwrap a present," the A. I. answered.

"Oh, okay." He tried to be careful with the paper, but ripped it a little. Oh, well, she wouldn't know. And he wasn't planning on saving the paper, anyway, just the tag.

The box had the Build a Bear logo on it. Curious, he opened the box.

A card fell out.

MADE ESPECIALLY FOR NATHAN BANNER BY RILEY WATERS, he read.

Then he saw the bear itself.

It had a long blonde wig, a T-shirt with Hello Kitty on it, and red-framed glasses. Also in the box was a bear-sized laptop.

"It's Garcia," he said, smiling. He took it out of the box and looked at it. In addition to the shirt, it had purple Capri pants and pink high-top sneakers. He couldn't remember that outfit from any particular episode, but it was exactly the sort of thing Garcia would wear: colorful and quirky, just like her.

"So what'd you get, sport?" Dad asked, when he rejoined them in the living room.

He held the bear up so everyone could see it. "It's a Garcia bear! Riley made it for me at Build a Bear."

"Well, that was nice of her," his dad said. "Did you get her something nice?"

"Fuzzy pajamas."

"Always good to have something warm to sleep in."

"Don't let me forget to call and thank her. She said not to call before seven, cause they'll be eating dinner till then, but not after ten."

"You've got plenty of time, then," said Tony. "And to think, they kept you in a cage."

"It was a high-tech containment facility," said Fury. "Which he broke out of anyway."

"No cage can hold this kid! He's too awesome!"

That made Nathan smile. "We're all awesome," he said. "A whole room full of awesome people."

Dad nodded. "God bless us, every one."

Loki felt like the Grinch after his heart grew three sizes too large. He never thought he'd fall prey to the sentimentality of the season, but he had a lot of reasons to feel blessed right now.

"Did you hang that family portrait yet?" he asked Thor.

"What? Oh, that. No, not yet. I haven't found the right spot for it."

"Would you be terribly offended if I took it back?"

Thor gaped at his brother. "You want it? After what you said about it being a lie?"

"Well . . . maybe I've realized that family is important, after all. I don't know if I'm ready to forgive him yet, but I can accept him. After he restored to me what was lost, it's the least I can do."

"And the other? Will you be keeping that as well?"

"Of course I will. You are the one person who never gave up on me, not even when I did all those terrible things. I could never stop loving you, not really."

"Give me a hug!" And Thor threw his arms around Loki so tight that it nearly cut off his circulation.

"Need . . . to . . . breathe . . ." he gasped.

Outside, a few flakes of snow were gently falling. They would melt as soon as the sun rose the next day, but for now, it was enough to give them the illusion of a white Christmas. And though this may not have been anything like a conventional family . . . they were happy.

Every one.


	13. Epilogue

"Where are we going?" Nathan asked, as Uncle Tony drove out of town. "This isn't the way back to my school."

"We're not going there right away," he said, glancing at Nathan in the rear view mirror. "There's something I want you to see first. Don't worry, your school will still be there."

"Is it something good?"

"I think so. You'll see when we get there." He turned on the radio, and it was still on Nathan's favorite station. That made the boy smile.

Eventually they pulled off the main road into what at first looked like a park. Then Bruce saw the headstones, "How did you find her?" he asked.

Tony shrugged. "I could say it was my amazing detective skills . . . but I don't have any. I called the Xavier Institute and asked them about it. Nice of them to take care of her arrangements, I must say."

By now, Nathan had figured it out. "My mother," he said. "This is where she's buried."

"I felt bad that you didn't have a place to go and visit, so I tracked her down for you. This cemetery is about half an hour's ride on the Number Two-Twelve bus, so you can come and see her any time you want. It's right down this way."

He led them down three rows and over two, to a plain stone that read simply SANDOVAL. On the back was her first name, and the dates of her life. That was it.

"I knew she was dead," Nathan said sadly, "but this makes it all real. Now I miss her all over again."

"I didn't mean to make you feel bad," said Tony. "I just wanted you to have closure. You didn't get to say goodbye to her; now you can."

"How did she die? I never asked."

"A virus your uncle made for her got into her system, and . . . she wasn't strong enough to fight it off. They said she was trying to leave town when she collapsed. Maybe she was trying to get back to you."

Nathan only stood there, looking at the stone.

"I have something to say to her," Bruce said. "I never got to say goodbye to her, either. She was there on Friday afternoon when I went home, and Monday morning, I came in, and she had already left. I never asked where she had gone. Maybe I should have."

He knelt down beside the stone, resting one hand on top. "Micky, I'm sorry I never felt the same way about you that you did about me. I'm sorry I never noticed you, or gave you the attention you needed. But thank you, for giving me a wonderful, unique, special, beautiful son. I wish you had told me about him from the beginning. I don't know if we could have been a real family, if that was what you even wanted, but you deserved so much better than what happened to you. I promise you I'll do my best to take care of our son, and keep him safe. And maybe someday, I'll even take him to meet his relatives in Ecuador." He leaned forward, pressing his forehead against the stone. Then after a minute or so, he stood up and backed away.

"That was nice," Nathan said softly. "Did you mean that about taking me to Ecuador?"

"Well, you never know. I'll see about getting in touch with the relatives, and see if they're open to the idea of meeting you. Then, of course, we have to work up to what you really look like."

"I could just wear my inducer the whole time."

"But they'd have to know the truth sooner or later. Now, if you have a few words for your mother, go ahead and say them now. We have to get you back to school."

Nathan thought about what he wanted to say to her. It had been almost five years since he had last seen her, and he couldn't even remember much about her anymore.

"Mother," he said. "I miss you, but I—I feel like I never really knew you. I'm trying to understand why you did what you did. Why you made me, and hid me, and . . . and why you couldn't be a real mother to me. I wish things had been different. I wish you had told me about my father years ago. I may never know why you did all those terrible things, but . . . I love you anyway. I will always love you, and someday, I'll be able to forgive you. I'll see you again soon." He ran his fingertips over the numbers carved into the stone, trying not to scratch it with his claws.

"We need to go now," Dad said. "It's good to know, isn't it? To know where she is. To have somewhere to come and visit her. We'll come back another day, and talk some more."

"Do you think she's really here?"

"Her body's here. But that's just an empty shell. Her spirit . . . who knows where that is? She could be here. She could be anywhere. I don't know if I believe in an afterlife, but in spite of all the things she did . . . she did love you. Maybe she made it to Heaven after all."

"I hope she's up there bugging the hell out of my dad with debates about nature versus nurture," Uncle Tony said. "That would be an interesting conversation to eavesdrop on."

"I thought you didn't believe in Heaven and Hell."

"I said there's no empirical evidence of either one. That doesn't mean we don't go elsewhere when we die. Another plain of existence . . . like Asgard."

"Wherever she is," said Nathan, "I just hope she knows I'm okay."

His father put a hand on the boy's shoulder. "She knows. I'm sure she knows. And she's glad you've got good people taking care of you."

"Even though they're mutants?"

"I don't think she really hated mutants as much as she thought she did. After all, she was one."

Something cold and wet hit Nathan's cheek. He looked up, and saw fluffy white snowflakes just beginning to fall. "Yay! Snow wars tomorrow!"

"Snow wars? No, never mind, I don't want to know. Let's get out of here." They went back to the Hummer, got in, and drove away.

* * *

"Welcome back." Miss Jean met them at the door. "How was your Christmas?"

"It was great!" Nathan brushed melting snow off his jacket. "We went shopping and had a fire and sang Christmas carols and fought blue aliens—we won, thanks to Mr. Loki's awesomeness—and then we had a turducken! That's a chicken, inside a duck, inside a turkey. It was better than I thought it'd be."

"Wait, wait a minute. You fought blue aliens? When?"

"Right after we opened our presents. I wasn't supposed to fight anyone, but they kinda came to us, so I fought back."

"Sounds like you had quite an interesting vacation. Come in, gentlemen. We're all having cocoa in the main room; would you like some?"

"That would be great," said Bruce, and they moved into the mansion's living room. There was nowhere to sit, so they stood, looking out the window at the falling snow.

Nathan was immediately surrounded by a group of his friends, who were all chattering and asking him questions about the alien attack. He answered them as best he could, although Bruce noticed that the boy tried to downplay his own involvement in the incident.

"Mr. Loki was awesome! The way he let the aliens take him, and then zapped them all with his magic! It was like he meant to do it all along. And the Christmas tree kinda got wrecked, but that's okay, cause we had another one delivered. Ornaments and everything. And there was apple spice cake!"

"Weren't you scared?" a girl with honey-brown skin and an exotic accent asked him.

"No. Well, maybe a little. But being scared doesn't mean you can't do the right thing anyway. I . . . I think I killed some of them. I didn't mean to, but they wouldn't stop coming!"

"Oh, poor baby." A pretty blonde girl moved closer to him and put an arm around him, or at least tried to. Her arm barely reached the middle of his back, but it was all right. He leaned into her, and she put her head on his shoulder.

"Our little boy's growing up," said Tony. Bruce gave him an odd look.

"**Our **little boy?"

"We're all family, aren't we? I guess we should go now. He's in good hands."

"What's the rush? Sit and enjoy the fire and the cocoa. Why are you always in such a hurry to go and do stuff? Slow down and have a moment here."

"Well . . . since you put it that way."

"Okay, then. And before we go, I'll show you the Danger Room."

Tony turned and looked at him. "You **knew** where it was, the whole time?"

"Of course I know where it is. I lived here for six months. We had training sessions every day."

"So you'll show me where it is?"

"I can't give you the technical specs, or anything like that. But I'll give you a quick tour. That I can do."

"Did I ever tell you how much I love you, B. B.? And I don't mean that in a gay way, I mean . . . well, you know."

"I know."

There was still a world out there. There would always be bad guys for the World's Greatest Heroes to fight. But right now, in this moment by the fire . . . none of that mattered. It was a family moment.

And that's what the season was really all about.

* * *

_(A/N: And that's it! Thanks for reading. New fic up soon, so keep watching!)_


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